The Last Vestige of New France in North America

 

The tiny islands of Saint Pierre and Miquelon are all that remain of the once-vast French empire in North America 

Many Americans lost their collective minds when France said “No” to George W. Bush. It happened after Bush illegally invaded and occupied Iraq, a sovereign nation that never once did anything to the United States other than sell some over-priced oil. Bush asked France to be part of the “Coalition of the Willing” in his effort to subdue Iraq and Saddam Hussein. France, being a sane and sovereign nation told W they wanted no part of what he was doing. From this beginning, a wave of anti-France passion swept over the United States. That wave also demonstrated how quickly Americans forget their own history.

France has been (and remains) Americas longest and most fervent ally. Were it not for the French and their blockade of the mouth of Chesapeake Bay at the near the end of the American Revolutionary War, Americans today would be bowing down to King Chuck and Queen Cammy and we would be driving on the wrong side of the road. Were it not for the French and the French resistance in World War II, there would be hundreds of thousands of American soldiers buried on the shores of Normandy rather than the tens of thousands who remain there today.

Not long after France told W Bush where to shove it and how deeply, I was seated in a bar on Fairfax Drive in Arlington, Virginia. The television was tuned to CNN and a reporter provided a brief summary of the current state of anti-France hysteria sweeping across America. With several bottles of liquid courage already in me, when the reporter finished her story I thrust my fist in the air and exclaimed “Vive Le France!”  Almost instantly the bartender asked me to leave saying “We don’t want any French-loving liberals in this bar.”  A colleague from my office, there having a drink with me told me as I prepared to leave “Standing up for the arrogant French is not a good idea right now!”

Before my first trip to France, I heard many stories from Americans about the arrogance of the French people. After five trips to France, from Normandy to Corsica I am convinced that the only arrogant people in France are Americans there looking for an arrogant French person. No matter if it was a lost hotel reservation or difficulty finding the Louvre in Paris or simply ordering a sumptuous French meal for dinner, I found the French overwhelmingly courteous and willing to come to my assistance. Although I am far from fluent in French, it helps to at least try to speak the language rather than expecting everything in English as too many Americans have shown. Today about the only arrogant French people I can find are from Quebec. Their passports all say “Canada” but deep down they seem to wish they were still a part of “New France.”

"New France" once included much of North America.  All that remains today are 7 tiny islands off the coast of Newfoundland

The following, from Wikipedia, explains a bit of the history of New France:

New France was the territory colonized by France in North America, beginning with the exploration of the Gulf of Saint Lawrence by Jacques Cartier in 1534 and ending with the cession of New France to Great Britain and Spain in 1763 under the Treaty of Paris.

A vast viceroyalty, New France consisted of five colonies at its peak in 1712, each with its own administration: Canada, the most developed colony, which was divided into the districts of Québec, Trois-Rivières, and Montréal; Hudson Bay; Acadie in the northeast; Terre-Neuve (Plaisance) on the island of Newfoundland; and Louisiane. It extended from Newfoundland to the Canadian Prairies and from Hudson Bay to the Gulf of Mexico, including all the Great Lakes of North America.

In the 16th century, the lands were used primarily to draw from the wealth of natural resources such as furs through trade with the various indigenous peoples. In the seventeenth century, successful settlements began in Acadia and in Quebec. In the 1713 Treaty of Utrecht, France ceded to Great Britain its claims over mainland Acadia, Hudson Bay, and Newfoundland. France established the colony of Île Royale on Cape Breton Island, where they built the Fortress of Louisbourg.

The population rose slowly but steadily. In 1754, New France's population consisted of 10,000 Acadians, 55,000 Canadiens, and about 4,000 settlers in upper and lower Louisiana.. The British expelled the Acadians in the Great Upheaval from 1755 to 1764, which has been remembered on July 28 each year since 2003. Their descendants are dispersed in the Maritime provinces of Canada and in Maine and Louisiana, with small populations in Chéticamp, Nova Scotia, and the Magdalen Islands. Some also went to France.

After the Seven Years' War (which included the French and Indian War in America), France ceded the rest of New France to Great Britain and Spain in the Treaty of Paris of 1763 (except the islands of Saint Pierre and Miquelon). Britain acquired Canada, Acadia, and French Louisiana east of the Mississippi River, except for the Île d'Orléans, which was granted to Spain with the territory to the west. In 1800, Spain returned its portion of Louisiana to France under the secret Treaty of San Ildefonso, and Napoleon Bonaparte sold it to the United States in the Louisiana Purchase of 1803, permanently ending French colonial efforts on the American mainland.

New France eventually became absorbed in the United States and Canada, with the only vestige of French rule being the tiny islands of Saint Pierre and Miquelon, an overseas collectivity of France. Sitting only 30 miles off the coast of Newfoundland, Saint Pierre and Miquelon has been a travel priority since I first learned about the islands and their unique history. The difficulty was justifying the expense of time and money to travel there.

Access to these islands is tricky and frustrating. There is a once-daily ferry from mainland Newfoundland but it operates from near St. John’s Newfoundland, and I have only been to St. John’s once. Flight is a possibility on Air Saint Pierre but it flies only from Montreal, Halifax, and from St. John’s. Add to the logistics issues the fact that when you are in Saint Pierre and Miquelon you are in France. It’s not a new country. It’s as much France as the Champs-Elysees and the beaches of Normandy. However, any of the seven islands of the group would be additions to my list of islands visited. Plus, Saint Pierre and Miquelon is one of only two locations in North America for which I do not have a bird list (Greenland is the other). It bothered me that I had not been to the islands but I could not find a way to go there cheaply and easily. Until now.

The itinerary for the Norwegian Star sailing from Reykjavik, Iceland to New York City, promises to provide us with some spectacular scenery and new adventures in several places we have never been before

Searching the listings of upcoming cruises on Norwegian Cruise Line we found a cruise leaving Reykjavik, Iceland on July 1, 2024 whose routing takes it to Greenland, then to Newfoundland with a one-day stop on Saint Pierre. From there it continues on to Halifax Nova Scotia and the cruise ends in New York City. On top of the itinerary the cruise was on the Norwegian Star, a ship we had been on three times previously. I called Norwegian, made a deposit, and now on Wednesday, July 10, 2024 we arrive on Saint Pierre at 9:00 a.m. local time. Sadly, we leave at 4:00 p.m. the same day so time to explore will be limited. Norwegian had an excursion to “Sailor’s Island,” a nearby abandoned island that is supposedly smothered with nesting seabirds. We waited too long to book the excursion and when I tried we found it to be already sold out.

I wonder if we can find a sidewalk cafe serving cheese and red wine somewhere near the harbor on Saint Pierre?

Perhaps we will just stroll around town, stopping in a pastry shop inhaling the intoxicating scent of excellent French baking, or find a sidewalk café for some fromage and a glass of vin rouge. I once took a French language class where the instructor told us “If you can say the word ‘baguette’ you never have to worry about starving in France.”  Maybe we will just do that. It won’t be like Jimmy Buffett sings “In a week I’ll be in gay Paree, and that’s a mighty long airplane ride,” but at least we will be in France.

 

 

Newfoundland - The Easternmost Point of North America

 

Marine Atlantic Ferry Company operates two car/passenger ferries each day between North Sydney, Nova Scotia, and Port-aux-Basque, Newfoundland. In winter, the ferry operates once each day. I took the once-daily 7-hour ferry in early December. It was an add on to a trip to Maine (a long add on from Maine) with two goals. Most importantly I had never been to Newfoundland so adding it to my life list was top priority.  Secondly, the Cabot Strait through which the ferry travels was a well-known place to see Great Skua in winter.

Because it was winter the ferry was perhaps one-quarter full offering many chairs to sit in as we chugged northeast to Newfoundland. The weather that day was a tad rough. The sky was cloudless and the temperature was about +25 degrees F. The rough part was the relentless 40 mile per hour howling wind that rocked the ferry the moment we entered the open waters and it kept on rocking for nearly 7 hours until we arrived in Port-aux-Basque.

The Marine Atlantic ferry between North Sydney, Nova Scotia and Port-aux-Basque, Newfoundland, is a great way to look for seabirds in the North Atlantic

I stood (as much as you could stand) on the lee of the bow curled up behind a large pole that gave me some protection from the fierce wind. I was able to stay out in the elements for 15 minutes or so but then, despite being dressed in winter clothing including a wool face mask, I had to duck inside to regain some warmth.

Dovekie, also known as "Little Auk" is abundant in certain areas of the North Atlantic Ocean and always a treat to see.  Photo by Robert Edsall.

Herring Gulls, Great Black-backed Gulls, and Iceland Gulls were plentiful and seemed to enjoy zooming around in the fierce wind probably not expending a single calorie while trying to get from point A to point B. Razorbills and Dovekie, both species of Alcid (cousins of the Puffin) flew by me like they were shot out of a cannon and finally after about 3 hours of mid-ocean torture, a large dark bird that looked more like a B-52 bomber than a cousin of the gulls, appeared on the horizon. Following it as closely as possible I was rewarded with it passing directly over the bow of the ferry maybe 50 feet from me. Had the wind not been so fierce I could have reached out and touched my first Great Skua!

Great Skua (Photo by Nigel Volden) is a treat to see anywhere you can find them.  They seem to be particularly common nesting species near Iceland and at least one was out patrolling the Davis Strait the day I passed over it

We arrived in Port-aux-Basque about 7:00 p.m. Newfoundland time (its 30 minutes ahead of Nova Scotia and 90 minutes ahead of the east coast of the United States). There I ate a cod dinner (appropriate for Newfoundland) in a nearby restaurant and waited for the midnight return of the ferry to North Sydney.

Sometime during the 5 hours we spent on land in Newfoundland the storm system that was creating a ruckus on the ocean wore itself out and our return trip was almost glass calm. Sadly, I saw little of Newfoundland because my entire time there was in darkness. At least I saw a sign welcoming me to Newfoundland so I had a visual memory of my time there.

Fast forward to 2001. Continental Airlines had begun serving St. John’s Newfoundland with one flight a day from Newark, New Jersey. The flight was on a Canadian Regional Jet CRJ-900 that holds about 90 passengers. When I saw the advertisement for the new service (the air fare was $99 each way from Washington National airport via Newark!) I snared a ticket and pointed myself northeast.

This trip, like the first one, had two objectives. First I wanted to add the St. John’s airport to my list of airports landed at or taken off from. Second I wanted to visit Gros Morne National Park on the west side of the island. Gros Morne was reputed to have a healthy population of Rock Ptarmigan which I needed for my Canada bird list. Access to Gros Morne from St. John’s would require flying to Deer Lake (life airport) on Provincial Airlines (life airline). If everything fell into place I would add two new airports, a new airline, and make another checkmark on my growing Canada bird list.

Arrival in St. John’s was after dark so I saw little of the place other than the glaring lights of the airport and the entrance sign for my nearby hotel. The next morning, while waiting for the hotel van back to the airport for my flight to Deer Lake, I was overwhelmed by the songs and calls of Boreal Chickadees. They seemed to be everywhere and there seemed to be hundreds of them. Other than Common Raven, Boreal Chickadee was the only other bird I recorded before flying to Deer Lake.

Boreal Chickadee (Photo by Iris Kirkpatrick) is a common resident of boreal forest across the northern tier of states, across Canada, and well into Alaska

Our flight to Deer Lake took about an hour to traverse the 246 miles of the middle of Newfoundland which to me looked like the Interior of Alaska. There was endless boreal forest, countless wetlands that I’m guessing no human ever paddled and a sense of wilderness that a day earlier was impossible to experience in Washington DC or Newark.

My quest for Rock Ptarmigan was successful – they were really numerous, and I fell in love with Gros Morne National Park quickly adding it to my list of places I need to return to one day.

Rock Ptarmigan (photo by Caleb Putnam) is a target species for any visit to Gros Morne National Park, Newfoundland

Provincial Airlines deposited me safely back in St. John’s that evening and the next morning I drove to Cape Spear, geographically the easternmost point of land in North America protected as a National Historic Site by Parks Canada. The birdwatching was productive with many southbound seabirds and Common Eiders were so numerous on the ocean I felt like I could walk across their backs and not get my feet in salt water!

Cape Spear, the easternmost point of land in North America, is protected as a National Historic Site by Parks Canada and is only 10 minutes from downtown St. John's Newfoundland

One week after my return from St. John’s and the beauty of Newfoundland, 19 crazed Islamic fundamentalists hijacked jets in Boston, Newark and Washington DC and turned the world upside down. We all remember how commercial air traffic in the United States was halted. This also included international flights that were not allowed to enter United States airspace.

One of the airports chosen for US-bound flights to be diverted was to Gander, Newfoundland, several hours north of St. John’s. At the time Gander had a human population of about 10,000 people. Air traffic control diverted enough flights to Gander that about 7,000 travelers descended on the tiny town. Residents of Gander responded to this crisis in typical Canadian fashion – they took care of everyone with no questions asked. People opened their homes to complete strangers who just a couple hours earlier were on an Alitalia jet from Rome. Makeshift shelters were set up and food was trucked in. The entire population of Gander went out of its way to take care of complete strangers and they did so for nearly a week until air travel could again resume.

The tiny Gander Newfoundland airport was a busy place on September 11, 2001, when more than 7,000 international travelers were diverted there after the terrorist attacks in the United States

Several months later George W. Bush made a prime-time speech to thank people for helping take care of Americans and others impacted by the flight diversions on September 11. Bush thanked Honduras for sending first aid supplies and he thanked Costa Rica for opening its airspace to South American flights being diverted as they traveled north. Bush did not once thank Canada for absorbing the bulk of the diverted travelers, for putting its military on alert to help out or for anything else. He especially did not thank the population of Gander, Newfoundland, that nearly doubled in a matter of hours and whose residents took care of Americans like they were long lost cousins.

This great injustice to Canadians in general and the Newfies in Gander happened about Christmas time 2001. Every year since then I have sent a letter of thanks to the mayor of Gander thanking him or her for what people did that day and again apologizing for George W. Bush and his refusal to thank the people who deserved it the most.

The Norwegian Star cruise ship will be making a stop in St. John's Newfoundland on July 9, 2024, and I will be there with it.

I will be making my third visit to Newfoundland arriving about 10:00 a.m. on July 9, 2024, when the Norwegian Star anchors in St. John’s harbor for 9 hours. Norwegian has only 4 excursions planned for Newfoundland’s capital and one of them, a trip to see Atlantic Puffins is already sold out. They have another one titled “The Galapagos of Geology” which sounds interesting but we were burned by a geology field trip a couple years ago in Argentina and are not going to try that again. Maybe instead I will rent a car near the cruise terminal and drive the 16 minutes (10 miles) to Cape Spear to photograph the entrance sign, to check for any icebergs, and find out if any cool seabirds have recently arrived.

A Wee Bit of Scotland in Canada

 

Common Chaffinch, as its name implies, is quite common in its usual range in Europe and western Asia.  Its quite rare and a real treat to see one in North America!  Photo by Santiago Caballero Cerrea from the Maculary Library at Cornell University.

When a Common Chaffinch was found in a cemetery in Halifax, Nova Scotia, in December 1988 it caused quite a stir in the birdwatching world in North America. Although this widespread European and west Asian species had been seen before on this side of the pond earlier, the Halifax bird was the first in decades and best of all it was in an accessible spot.

The usual range of Common Chaffinch is a long way from a cemetery in Halifax, Nova Scotia

The United States Air Force at Hanscomb Air Force Base in Massachusetts was the mastermind behind a plan to build “Over the Horizon Radar.”  It was a series of metal “nets” that would intercept beams of electricity bounced off the atmosphere. Its purpose was to alert us to the presence of incoming intercontinental ballistic weapons (nuclear warheads) headed for the United States. When OTH radar was complete, the Air Force would be able to warn the American public about Armageddon 20 minutes before it happened. Those extra 15 minutes of breathing time would cost the taxpayer a staggering multi-billion-dollar price tag.

To allow the public this 15 minutes of extra breathing time would require that four OTH radar systems be constructed. One was in a river valley in eastern Alaska. A second was scheduled for the Klamath River valley of Oregon. The third one was going to be built on the prairie of South Dakota and the fourth one would be in the forest of Maine not far from Bangor.

Picture a large net made out of sheep fence that was 2-3 miles wide and 300 feet tall. Now imagine four of them in each of the four locations designated to give us more breathing time. Finally imagine hundreds of millions of birds from Sandhill Cranes to Magnolia Warblers flying through the valley’s where these gigantic nets would be placed and you can already tell this was a bird mortality factor of gargantuan proportions.

Because of research we had done on the effect of man-made structures on bird movements and mortality in the Great Plains I briefly had the title of “expert” on the issue in the United States Fish and Wildlife Service. When the Air Force plan was announced I received phone calls from US Fish and Wildlife Service offices in Anchorage, Alaska, Portland, Oregon, Pierre, South Dakota, and Bangor Maine asking me to travel to their areas to evaluate the places proposed for placement of each bird-killing net designed to let us know we had an extra 15 minutes before we all disintegrated.

In a rare environmental success story, we were able to kill Over the Horizon Radar before it could kill its first bird.

The scheduled review of the site in Maine was in early December 1988 that coincided perfectly with the unsuspected arrival of the Common Chaffinch from somewhere in Europe. The distance from Bangor to Halifax looked close on a map. In reality it was 426 miles (685 kilometers) one way. Driving at a normal speed the bird in Halifax was about 10 hours away from me when I stepped off the plane in Bangor.  I was young, foolish, and had only been to Nova Scotia once before – the ferry terminal in Digby. It seemed logical to chase after this Chaffinch since I was relatively close.

The bird was much farther away than I originally calculated especially when I left Bangor airport at 3:00 pm eastern time. Sunset came around 4:00 pm at this northeasterly location, and Halifax was one hour ahead of Maine.

Its much farther from the Bangor Maine airport to Halifax Nova Scotia than the map suggests it is.  That's especially true in the middle of the night in the middle of winter

I finally arrived in Halifax at 3:30 a.m. Nova Scotia time. I had considered stopping in Truro, Nova Scotia and crashing in a hotel but continued on since coffee was keeping me fortified and the bird was closer with each passing mile. Finding the cemetery in the middle of the night (it was the one where many victims of the sinking of the Titanic were buried) I parked under a tree, curled up in the backseat, and slept a fitful sleep.

About 8:00 a.m. there was a loud banging on my window. Each window was covered with frost from my breath against the frozen night and I expected the Royal Canadian Mounted Police to be checking out this strange person with Maine license plates parked overnight in a cemetery. However, it wasn’t the Mounties. A group of local bird watchers had descended on the cemetery to look for the Chaffinch. One of them opened my door and asked if I was ok. Feeling a bit churlish I said I had traveled there to look for the Chaffinch. The man smiled, pointed straight up from my car, and said “Check here friend!”

I had parked directly beneath the tree that the Chaffinch chose to roost in for the night. From the time I woke up until I had my new bird probably took 20 seconds. I wish all bird chases were that easy.

The Halifax birders shared their jelly donuts and hot coffee with me and gave me hints on other places to look for wintering birds in the Halifax area.

Several years passed before I returned to Halifax and to Nova Scotia. This time I used Delta Frequent Flier miles to fly to Halifax to add the airport to my airport list. I arrived on a late flight and stayed the first night at the Hilton Garden Inn by the airport. Over breakfast at the hotel the next morning I began talking with the server who, on finding out I was American said rather bluntly, “How could you crazy Yanks elect that asshole George W Bush as your president?” Being more disgusted with Bush than she was I told her exactly how I felt about him.

Impressed with my candor the server told me she was going to give me my breakfast complimentary. “Any American who hates George Bush more than I do is an instant friend of mine” she said. Now I wish I could go back to that hotel and tell her how I feel about Donald tRump. She would likely give me the hotel as a gift!

I have now traveled to Nova Scotia 4 times, from Yarmouth at the extreme western point of the island to the spectacular Cape Breton Highlands at the easternmost part of the province. Granted, British Columbia has its spectacular mountains and Churchill has its Polar Bears and Prince Edward Island has to be where the word “quaint” was first coined. I have visited every Canadian province/territory except the Northwest Territories (yes, I have Nunavut) so maybe there is something about the Canadian tundra I am missing. None of what I have seen in Canada is more beautiful to me than Nova Scotia.

Halifax is filled with museums and historic sites and other interesting places to help occupy a few hours while we are there

On our cruise from Iceland to New York City we spend one day at sea off the coast of Nova Scotia and one day in Halifax. We arrive at noon and depart at 8:00 p.m. so our time will be quite limited. There is much to do in Halifax and many historical sites to visit. Maybe, just maybe, I will walk over to the cemetery where I slept to see if the tree I slept under is still there and another Common Chaffinch has found it.

Greenland - Finally!

 

Evelyn Moe was my fourth-grade teacher. Now, nearly 65 years later, she remains my most influential elementary teacher because she challenged us with new thoughts and ideas, and in some cases fantasies about faraway places.

When Astronaut Alan Shepherd became the first American to fly into outer space on May 5, 1961, Mrs. Moe made sure the radio in her classroom was tuned to Wisconsin Public Radio so we could live the experience. From countdown to splashdown, Mrs. Moe made sure we were as much a part of the flight as was Shepherd.

Every Monday morning (I think it was at 9:00 a.m.) Dr. Carl L Ellerson, a wildlife biology professor at the University of Wisconsin talked to students all across the state about nature through a program on Wisconsin Public Radio. He recounted stories about his discoveries over the weekend near Madison – the first Northern Cardinal nest of the year; the return of Sandhill Cranes to a marsh in Sauk County, bumblebees on the dandelions in his front yard. It didn’t matter what Ellerson saw, he told us about it and made us think about the wider world around us. Every Monday morning Mrs. Moe made sure we had the opportunity to learn what Ellerson was seeing.

Because of a reason now long forgotten, one day Mrs. Moe told us about a U.S. Air Force base at Thule in Greenland. A map of the world hung in a corner of Mrs. Moe’s classroom. She pulled it down to show us where Greenland was located and pointed a finger at where she thought Thule was located (it was so far north even she didn’t know exactly where it was located). On the map, Thule seemed just inches from the North Pole.

I no longer remember the conversation that day, but in the evening I was glued to my world atlas studying every nook and cranny in the geography of Greenland, fantasizing about the Polar Bears that must live there, and wondering why on earth the United States built an Air Force Base so far north and away from the United States.

I read what I could about its mile-thick glaciers and endless snow fields and how in winter there was no daylight for months at a time. I was fascinated that Eric the Red from Iceland, who discovered Greenland, decided to name the place “Green” when 95 percent of the landmass was covered in ice every day of the year. In my young and wanderlust-filled mind, Greenland became one of the places I had to see “someday.”

My fascination with Greenland began in a classroom in northern Wisconsin in 1961. It wasn’t until 1996 that I finally saw it but then only from the window of a jet 36,000 feet above the surface.

In the mid-1990s, the travel section of the Washington Post carried an advertisement almost every Sunday paid for by Icelandair. The advertisement featured two Atlantic Puffin’s talking to each other and one saying to the other “Come Up and See Us Some Time.”  “Come up” meant traveling to Iceland. The airline was offering seductive air-hotel-rental car fares for short trips to Reykjavik and eventually we could no longer say no. I purchased two 5-day four-night air-hotel-and-rental car packages for $499 US per person and about a month later we lifted off from Baltimore bound for the volcano island.

Following an all-too-quick trip to Iceland we reboarded Icelandair and headed back to Baltimore. The flight to Iceland was overnight and we saw nothing but darkness until we were on approach to the Keflevik airport at dawn. Our return was in mid-afternoon and I was seated in a starboard window just forward of the engine. Maybe an hour after lifting off from Keflevik airport the pilot announced that we would be passing over the southern tip of Greenland in five minutes

My anticipation limit was off the charts as my 25-year-old quest to see Greenland was about to be satisfied. Then reality struck. The entirety of southern Greenland, and specifically the stretch we were passing over, with its endless mountains and with too many glaciers to count, was covered by clouds. 

A few months later, during summer, I made my first trip to England. The Continental Airlines DC-10 was scheduled to depart Newark, New Jersey at 9:00 a.m. This time I was in a port window forward of the engine and as we flew north along the Polar Route to Europe conditions appeared good for seeing Greenland and this time they were. We passed a few miles north of the southern tip of the island and for as far as I could see in any direction there was nothing but endless beauty. Huge mountains. Extensive glacier fields and best of all not a single blemish on the landscape caused by humans. It was like a frozen paradise.

Since that eventful day in June 1996, I have traveled from Europe to the United States 36 times during daylight hours offering me 36 chances to see Greenland. Only once, on a KLM flight from Amsterdam to Detroit, was Greenland hidden by clouds. Each glimpse has been immaculate – mountains, glaciers, no roads, and no humans.

Despite all of the excitement of seeing Greenland from the air I still have not seen it in person and never stepped foot on it.

Until now.

The Norwegian Star from Reykjavik Iceland to New York City with two Stops in Greenland!

Because of age and increasing mobility issues, I no longer feel safe making extensive trips to far away locations alone. Long gone are the days I would spend 5 weeks traipsing around South Africa by myself. The thought of again taking the rickety old train from New Delhi to Goa, India, gives me hives. A safer and more secure way to travel and see things I’ve not seen before is from the balcony of a cruise ship bound for a new port.

The venerable Norwegian Star has taken us from Copenhagen, Denmark to the Azores to Miami, and twice from Buenos Aires Argentina to Antarctica.  In July 2024 she will carry us to Greenland and the High Arctic

Now instead of hiking up the side of a mountain in Chiapas, Mexico, looking for Horned Guan, we make a minimum of three treks each year from the confines of a cruise ship. One trip is in or near February to celebrate Cathy’s birthday. Another is near July 1 to celebrate our wedding anniversary and the third is around Halloween to celebrate my birthday. Twenty-two of these celebratory cruises have taken us to Antarctica (twice), Hawaii, the Azores and 40-foot seas in the North Sea off Germany and countless other locations.

About a year ago while scanning the cruise offerings on Norwegian Cruise Line I noticed they offered a 12-day cruise from Reykjavik, Iceland to New York City. Best of all the cruise made two stops at ports in southern Greenland!

Anyone who has visited Iceland (I have been there twice) raves about its beauty and if you have even an inkling of interest in geology you’ll be fascinated by the volcanology of the island. There are very few reasons not to want to visit the island. Doing so from a cruise ship that stops in Greenland is better than a dream. I called Norwegian and made a reservation.

On July 1, 2024, we sail out of Reykjavik harbor on the Norwegian Star, a 965-foot ship we have sailed on three times earlier. The original plan was to circumnavigate Iceland before crossing the Greenland Sea to Greenland. A recent itinerary change (a frustratingly common occurrence on Norwegian in recent years) we will only see the northwestern and northern coasts of the island. In 2015 we flew Icelandair to Copenhagen, Denmark, and after leaving Reykjavik we were in awe of the beauty of the southeast corner of the island. We looked forward to seeing it from a cruise ship but Norwegian changed those plans. Instead, we will make the most out of the north coast and its numerous fjords.

At 836,000 square miles (21.6 million square kilometers) Greenland is the largest island on earth and almost 80 percent of the island is covered with ice. Most importantly only 56,480 humans are thought to live on Greenland giving it a refreshing population density of 14.8 humans per square mile. Compare that to 384.3 humans per square mile in Florida, or 2,432 humans per square mile in Hong Kong. Needless to say, if you want to get away from humans, Greenland is the place to go!

Our time in Greenland will be short with only two port visits in two days. Both locations are fraught with summer fog (it’s the Arctic after all) so I will consider us lucky if we get to only one.

Qaqortoq, Greenland

Our first port is Qaqortog, a town, like most others in Greenland, whose name I find impossible to pronounce.

This looks like a colorful little town to spend 10 hours in eating whale blubber and noshing on roast caribou.  I hope they have a craft brewery!

The Vikings (the real ones from Norway, my ancestors, not the so-called purple football team from Minnesota) inhabited Greenland for more than 400 hundred years and created a tradition of farming that today has become a cornerstone of everyday life in Southern Greenland. Their past presence is an obvious component of life in Qaqortog. We will have 10 hours in this port – well 10 hours minus however long it takes to reach the port by tender boat from the ship and return. While there we plan on enjoying one of Norwegian’s shore excursions. Its canned description follows:

Heighten your appetite and sample Greenlandic and Inuit cuisine at a local restaurant. You’ll spend about 25 minutes along the immensely scenic route through the heart of South Greenland’s largest city – still a compact, charming place where gardens flourish, colorful historic homes line the streets and public artworks celebrate the region’s rich cultural history. But then, there’s no better way to get a true taste of a culture than by its food. The offerings at this excursion’s designated venue change frequently but typically include traditional Greenlandic and Inuit dishes featuring high-protein meats – a diet meant to sustain early locals through harsh, physically demanding winters. Greenlanders have been whalers for some 4,000 years, so look for a taste of that to be served – perhaps thinly sliced like carpaccio or quick-cooked like veal to seal in its flavor. Lamb is also popular here, raised naturally and allowed to range the upland pastures freely. Other traditional specialties might include dried seal, grilled Arctic char or smoked reindeer. Tasty local crowberries, which look like blueberries, are used liberally in sauces and desserts. No worries: you’ll burn off any excess calories on the walk back to the ship.

HIGHLIGHTS

• Enjoy a leisurely, scenic walk through Qaqortoq’s downtown – alive with color and charm.
• Visit a local restaurant specializing in traditional Greenlandic dishes made from regional ingredients.
• Enjoy a tasting likely to include whale meat along with dried seal, smoked reindeer or free-range lamb.
• Discover the flavor of Greenland’s answer to blueberries: the crowberry.
• Discover the flavor of Greenland’s answer to blueberries: the crowberry.
• See a few more sights and shed a few calories on the pleasant walk back to the ship.

One of the highlights of any form of international travel is sampling the local cuisine. Not only does it separate you from the standard American who wants meat and potatoes, or the nearest McDonald’s, savoring local cuisine helps you understand the people you are visiting. Whale (humpback?) and seal (one of several species) are on the menu for this trip. Thanks to the Inuit Cultural Center in Barrow, Alaska, I had the opportunity to try both whale and seal a few years ago. Although neither is as tasty as Cajun shrimp in a Canal Street restaurant in New Orleans, they are worth the opportunity to sample them. After all, how many kids on your block can say they ate broiled seal washed down with a slab of humpback whale blubber? We will also be offered Arctic char, an anadromous species of salmon that, to my taste buds, is 10 times more flavorful than any Alaska King salmon. Other options include lamb and caribou.

Long ago I raised sheep and sold both the wool and the lambs.  We always butchered one or two lambs a year and each time my mom prepared it I found sawdust to be more flavorful. In 2004 while visiting Australia I decided to try lamb because it is so popular there. My experiment proved, once again, that my mother could burn water because the lamb was absolutely delicious! I hope Greenlandic lamb is equally as memorable.

Almost everyone who has traveled to Alaska has tried Caribou at least once. In my 55 trips to Alaska, I think I have had it on 54 of the journey’s. Usually, it comes as caribou sausage with breakfast and the best sausage in the state is at Fast Eddy’s Restaurant in Tok. Occasionally it comes as steaks or chops and probably 30 years ago in Anchorage when I was there for the Iditroad dog race I found a place selling caribou hot dogs called “I Did A Dog’s.” Wherever you can find caribou make sure you try it at least twice. I hope I can say the same thing about Greenlandic caribou.

Nanortalik, Greenland

Following 10 quick hours in our first port we sail a bit down the coast of Greenland to Nanortalik whose name, like every other word in the Greenlandic language, I am unable to pronounce! Among its many claims to fame, Nanortalik is the southernmost settlement in Greenland. It was probably the one I saw from 36,000 feet the first time I saw the island from a Continental Airlines DC-10 bound for London.

With vertical walls that tower over intricate fjord systems and “sikorsuit” sea ice lurking just outside the harbor during the spring, Nanortalik has more in common with East Greenland than the rest of South Greenland. Rock climbers and mountaineers from around the world are drawn to the granite peaks of the nearby Tasermiut Fjord, while hikers and kayakers mount multi-day expeditions to explore the unparalleled beauty of the harsh rock that rises straight up from reflective waters.

But Nanortalik is more than just a magnet for extreme adventurers. It is home to the most comprehensive local museum in the country, some of Greenland’s very few forests, comfortably organized camping in one of the world’s most beautiful landscapes and is close to one of Greenland’s few hot springs where you can relax with an unprecedented view of tall mountains and icebergs.

We have no organized activities planned here. Maybe we will just walk around and hope to find a craft brewery! Regardless, it will be a huge rush walking around on the Precambrian shield rocks of the largest island on earth.

Leaving Nanortalik we spend a day at sea crossing the Labrador Sea on approach to St. John’s, the stunningly attractive capital city of Newfoundland.

Its unfortunate after all these years that Mrs. Moe is no longer with us.  It would be a rush after this trip to see her and tell her all about the island I visited nearly 65 years after she turned me on to it.  The downside of this trip is that, if history is any indication, my first look at Greenland will fill me with wanderlust and I'll have to begin planning a return trip, or two, in the near future.   

The Art of Rouse in Baseball

 

April 5, 1966, an unbelievable 58 years ago today, was the opening day of the spring high school baseball season in the north woods of Wisconsin. I was a freshman and was selected to be the starting catcher for our team (probably because nobody else wanted the position). Our opponent that day was the Prairie Farm Farmers, a team that my dad played for 30 some years earlier when he was in high school there. My dad was a pitcher and a fairly good one. Good enough, I guess, to be offered a chance to try out for the Chicago Cubs. He didn’t make the cut but he rode to Chicago for the try out with Andy Pafko from nearby Boyceville, Wisconsin. Andy Pafko made it to the Big Leagues and played for the Cubs. My dad stayed home and watched him on the television.

April 5, 1966, was an exciting day because in my mind I made it to the Big Leagues also. Several of my fellow freshman classmates including Keith Popko were also in the starting lineup. We had been playing baseball together since almost the time we could hold a baseball so it seemed almost normal that we were varsity ball players in the ninth grade.

Our opponent, Prairie Farm, was no major threat although one of their players (I think he was the second baseman but can’t remember) had won the state championship in the 100-yard dash in state track competition the previous year. He probably had his eyes set on a repeat performance in 1966.

During our warmups, while coach Dick Gay was hitting grounders to the infield, he instructed me that each time I threw a ball to second base I was supposed to throw it wild. High. Low, Far to the left. Maybe to the center fielder? It didn’t matter. He wanted all throws to be wild. The coaches instructions were strange because in practice leading up to the start of the season he had been a stickler for accurate throws and especially to second base.

Coach Gay was the boss, so I threw every ball as inaccurately as my ethics would allow.

In the bottom of the first inning the third batter for Prairie Farm was the speedster who won the 100-yard dash the year before. He got on base with a weak hit to right field and almost instantly led off first base as the next batter came to the plate.

As our pitcher wound up to throw his first pitch to the next batter, the runner on first base exploded into an intense run toward second base. When I caught the pitch I threw an accurate throw, as hard as I could, to second base. The trajectory was flat, the speed was high, and the ball reached our second baseman’s outstretched hands while the runner was starting his slide. We threw him out by at least three feet. I threw out the fastest runner in Wisconsin and did so by at least three feet.

The 100-yard dash champion came to bat again in the fourth inning and once again reached first base.  This time I think he was walked. Regardless of how he got to first base he was there and his sights were set on stealing second base. Following the first pitch to the next hitter, the dash champion raced toward second base. Seeing his departure, I threw another bullet to second base and nailed his ass again. This time, however, by only a foot or so.  After throwing out the 100-yard champion a second time we never saw another Prairie Farm runner attempt to steal a base.

On the bus ride home Coach Gay explained to me why he made me throw wildly during warmup.  He knew I had an accurate arm but he wanted the Prairie Farm coach and especially the 100-yard dash winner, to think that this freshman behind the plate wasn’t up to the task. Thanks to Coach Gay, we taught Prairie Farm otherwise.

 

 

My Fifty Years With the North American Breeding Bird Survey

 

Route of the Steinhatchee Breeding Bird Survey Route, Taylor County, Florida

Thirty-minutes before sunrise on June 15, 1974, the air was cool and crisp with a touch of October to remind me that Wisconsin’s winter wasn’t far off. 

With me that morning was my soon-to-be wife (now ex-wife) and fellow graduate student Keith Dueholm. Ruth and Keith accompanied me to be my assistant’s on my first-ever run of a North American Breeding Bird Survey route. The route selected, named Lorraine after the township in Polk County where it began, had been run for several years by my thesis advisor, Steve Goddard. For whatever reason Steve tired of rolling out of bed at 0 dark 30, driving 90 minutes north to the start of the route at about 4:30 a.m. and then counting birds for nearly 5 hours until the route was completed.

I had been Steve’s laboratory instructor/assistant in his undergraduate/graduate level Ornithology 460 class during my second, third, and fourth years of college. Beginning graduate school, Steve said to me one day “If you’re going to be an ornithologist, I guess you should have the class on your resume. Take it this year.”

I took Ornithology while I was the laboratory assistant for the fourth year in spring quarter 1974. Steve later admitted he should have just given me an A in the class to free up time for me to take another class in another subject. I received a perfect 100 percent on all exams and field quizzes. Ornithology and Plant Taxonomy the year before were the two easiest classes I ever took in college. They were also the two classes I learned the most while taking.

The North American Breeding Bird Survey route we were conducting in Polk County was one of about 70 scattered across Wisconsin and coordinated by Sam Robbins, author of the book “Wisconsin Birdlife” and brother of famous ornithologist Chandler Robbins. In the mid-1960s Chandler and his colleague Willet T. Van Velzen at the Patuxent Wildlife Research Center in Laurel, Maryland, came up with the idea for a technique to monitor changes in bird populations over large land areas

Their technique, the North American Breeding Bird Survey, was a series of 24.5-mile-long roadside counts scattered then among the lower 48 states and distributed by well-known and recognized geophysical regions. There were a few other restrictions like not crossing state lines or geographic region boundaries. The Lorraine route was close to my hometown (although the Cumberland route, which we would conduct the following weekend was closer).

I had taught myself bird songs by listening to Roger Tory Peterson 78 rpm vinyl records all winter long each long Wisconsin winter. When spring finally rolled into northern Wisconsin I was primed and ready having listening to Chestnut-sided Warblers and Mourning Warblers and all the Flycatchers almost nightly for the previous 10 months. None of those months of training prepared me for the cacophony of voices that overwhelmed me when I stepped out of my car, clipboard in hand, and prepared to conduct my first BBS route!

Was that a Great Crested Flycatcher? That might be a Willow Flycatcher or is it an Alder? Is that bird singing slow enough to be an American Robin or is it fast enough to be a Rose-breasted Grosbeak? Those and one hundred other questions overwhelmed me as reality sunk in.

Making matters even more of a challenge was that by the rules only I could identify birds despite having assistants and all the counting must be completed in a 3-minute period after which you drive 0.5 miles to the next stop and repeat the process all over again.

After 4 ½ hours of second-guessing many of my identifications and wondering how many others I had completely missed, we came to stop 50 of the Lorraine BBS route. Our total for the morning was about 75 bird species and about 1,300 individuals. Most importantly I was hooked and could not wait to run the next route.

I didn’t have to wait long because the following weekend we conducted the Cumberland BBS route that began in Cumberland Township west of Rice Lake. At stop 1 there was a singing male Eastern Phoebe. At stop 10 a male Purple Finch and at stop 38 an American Goshawk. When the morning was over I realized I would have to wait another year before I could conduct another BBS route.

During my remaining time in Wisconsin, I ran 11 different routes extending from the central part of the state along the Mississippi River north to Chaffey in Douglas County and Shanagolden in Ashland County.

A professional move to North Dakota changed my habitat outlook and my BBS responsibilities. There I became the North Dakota State Coordinator of the BBS trying, and usually failing to find enough competent observers to conduct each of the routes in the Peace Garden State. While in North Dakota I was conducting research on breeding birds along the Platte River in Nebraska which provided the opportunity to conduct routes in Nebraska, South Dakota and I once sneaked over the border and ran a route in Wyoming.

Another move sent me from North Dakota to Georgia where because of other responsibilities I was able to conduct only one route in three years. Meanwhile with my main office now at the Patuxent Wildlife Research Center in suburban Washington DC I made frequent trips to the mid-Atlantic region where I was able to help Danny Bystrak conduct some of his routes in Western Maryland and one in Pennsylvania.

Another move sent me to southern California where there were too many bird dialects for me to feel secure with the abundance of bird voices and variations and I didn’t run any routes there. My final professional move was to Washington DC where, because of the concentration of competent birdwatchers and ornithologists it was nearly impossible to find a route to conduct unless I wanted to drive 7 hours to the Appalachian Mountains of southwest Virginia to conduct an available route.

My first trip to Barrow, Alaska, was in June 2017, and while there I began wondering why nobody had ever established a BBS route on the northernmost tundra in the United States. Logistics is a major negative about traveling to Barrow – logistics and persistent summertime fog that might turn a daytrip into a weeklong trip. Several letters to the BBS office in Laurel Maryland resulted in establishment of the Barrow BBS route. It was first scheduled to be conducted in 2020 but COVID changed those plans. I finally ran it in 2021 and plan to run it each year while I still have a pulse.

At the same time, I decided it was time to begin running some routes in Florida where, like with Virginia, an abundance of competent observers makes it difficult to have a route nearby to run. I now run four routes in Florida – the one nearest to my home begins 230 miles north of Sarasota.

Despite a long hiatus away from running BBS routes while stationed in California and Washington DC, when I count the first bird on the Olustee Florida BBS route on May 15, 2024, it will mark almost 50 years to the day since I nervously stepped from my car in Polk County, Wisconsin, in June 1974 and was overwhelmed by the dawn chorus of singing males.

In 50 years of being associated with BBS routes I have seen some unusual wildlife that doesn’t fly. Consider my first Gray Wolf that crossed the highway in front of me at stop 48 on the Shanagolden BBS route in Ashland County, Wisconsin, in June 1975. Who could forget the Black Bear in eastern Wyoming who decided that I was blocking his route and I had to stay in my car until he decided to move on before I could count any more birds. A Prairie Rattlesnake along a Nebraska route caused consternation for an employee of a local CENEX station who was determined to kill the snake because it was a snake. He yelled at me and called me a couple of deleted expletives when he returned to kill the snake and found me lifting it up with a shovel and heaving it into the ditch before he could kill it. A Moose plodding down the road in the Turtle Mountains of North Dakota was exciting as was a pair of Caribou and an Arctic Fox on the Barrow Alaska BBS route in 2022.

As of today, I have recorded 297 bird species on the BBS routes I have conducted. Being anally retentive it bothers me to no end that the list is not 300 species. With luck, a Bachman’s Sparrow, Swainson’s Warbler and Prothonotary Warbler will appear on a north Florida route in 2024 and put me at or over the 300 mark.

How much longer I continue to conduct BBS routes is a subject best understood by my hearing. A recent audiologist test revealed that I have lost 40 percent of the aural acuity in my left ear. A paper that Danny Bystrak and I wrote about observer bias in the BBS revealed that about 95 percent of birds recorded along a route are encountered by sound so if I have lost that much aural acuity how much longer will I be useful? A test of my hearing conducted by the Speech Pathology Department at the University of California in Davis in October 1980 showed that I had the sharpest hearing ability of anyone they had ever tested. However recently I looked at a Pine Warbler near by home who was singing. I could see his mouth open and even see little whisps of frost coming from his mouth, but I could not hear a single note of the song he was singing.

I will be back in the range of Henslow’s Sparrow and Grasshopper Sparrow in southern Minnesota in late May. Those two birds will be my test species. If I can see them singing and hear them singing I will know I haven’t lost the ability to hear birds with a high range of song. If I can only see their mouth moving with no song coming out it might be time to hang up my cleats and let younger ears do the counting I have enjoyed so much for so long.

 

List of Birds Recorded on BBS Routes from 1974 to 2023

 

#	Species
1	Black-bellied Whistling-Duck
2	Snow Goose
3	Greater White-fronted Goose
4	Brant
5	Canada Goose
6	Tundra Swan
7	Wood Duck
8	Blue-winged Teal
9	Northern Shoveler
10	Gadwall
11	American Wigeon
12	Mallard
13	American Black Duck
14	Mottled Duck
15	Northern Pintail
16	Green-winged Teal
17	Canvasback
18	Redhead
19	Ring-necked Duck
20	Greater Scaup
21	Lesser Scaup
22	Stelle's Eider
23	Spectacled Eider
24	King Eider
25	Black Scoter
26	Long-tailed Duck
27	Bufflehead
28	Common Goldeneye
29	Hooded Merganser
30	Ruddy Duck
31	Northern Bobwhite
32	Ruffed Grouse
33	Sharp-tailed Grouse
34	Greater Prairie-Chicken
35	Willow Ptarmigan
36	Gray Partridge
37	Ring-necked Pheasant
38	Pied-billed Grebe
39	Horned Grebe
40	Red-necked Grebe
41	Eared Grebe
42	Rock Pigeon
43	Eurasian Collared-Dove
44	Common Ground-Dove
45	White-winged Dove
46	Mourning Dove
47	Yellow-billed Cuckoo
48	Black-billed Cuckoo
49	Common Nighthawk
50	Chuck-wills-widow
51	Eastern Whip-poor-will
52	Chimney Swift
53	Ruby-throated Hummingbird
54	Clapper Rail
55	Virginia Rail
56	Sora
57	American Coot
58	Yellow Rail
59	Sandhill Crane
60	Black-necked Stilt
61	American Avocet
62	American Golden-Plover
63	Pacific Golden-Plover
64	Killdeer
65	Upland Sandpiper
66	Bar-tailed Godwit
67	Marbled Godwit
68	Long-billed Dowitcher
69	American Woodcock
70	Wilson's Snipe
71	Wilson's Phalarope
72	Red Phalarope
73	Red-necked Phalarope
74	Spotted Sandpiper
75	Willet
76	Ruddy Turnstone
77	Red Knot
78	Stilt Sandpiper
79	Red-necked Stint
80	Buff-breasted Sandpiper
81	Dunlin
82	Baird's Sandpiper
83	White-rumped Sandpiper
84	Least Sandpiper
85	Pectoral Sandpiper
86	Western Sandpiper
87	Semipalmated Sandpiper
88	Long-tailed Jaeger
89	Parasitic Jaeger
90	Pomarine Jaeger
91	Ivory Gull
92	Sabine's Gull
93	Laughing Gull
94	Franklin's Gull
95	Ring-billed Gull
96	Herring Gull
97	Glaucous Gull
98	California Gull
99	Slaty-backed Gull
100	Least Tern
101	Black Tern
102	Forster's Tern
103	Arctic Tern
104	Red-throated Loon
105	Pacific Loon
106	Common Loon
107	Yellow-billed Loon
108	Wood Stork
109	Anhinga
110	Double-crested Cormorant
111	American White Pelican
112	Brown Pelican
113	American Bittern
114	Black-crowned Night-Heron
115	Little Blue Heron
116	Tricolored Heron
117	Snowy Egret
118	Green Heron
119	Western Cattle Egret
120	Great Egret
121	Great Blue Heron
122	White Ibis
123	Glossy Ibis
124	Black Vulture
125	Turkey Vulutre
126	Osprey
127	Swallow-tailed Kite
128	Mississippi Kite
129	Northern Harrier
130	Sharp-shinned Hawk
131	Cooper's Hawk
132	American Goshawk
133	Red-shouldwered Hawk
134	Broad-winged Hawk
135	Swainson's Hawk
136	Red-tailed Hawk
137	Ferruginous Hawk
138	Eastern Screech-Owl
139	Snowy Owl
140	Great Horned Owl
141	Burrowing Owl
142	Barred Owl
143	Short-eared Owl
144	Belted Kingfisher
145	Red-naped Sapsucker
146	Red-headed Woodpecker
147	Rd-bellied Woodpecker
148	Downy Woodpecker
149	Hairy Woodpecker
150	Pileated Woodpecker
151	Northern Flicker
152	Crested Caracra
153	American Kestrel
154	Olive-sided Flycatcher
155	Western Wood-Petee
156	Eastern Wood-Pewee
157	Acadian Flycatcher
158	Alder Flycatcher
159	Willow Flycatcher
160	Least Flycatcher
161	Dusky Flycatcher
162	Western Flycatcher
163	Eastern Phoebe
164	Say's Phoebe
165	Great Crested Flycatcher
166	Western Kingbird
167	Eastern Kingbird
168	White-eyed Vireo
169	Bell's Vireo
170	Yellow-throated Vireo
171	Blue-headed Vireo
172	Plumbeous Vireo
173	Philadelphia Vireo
174	Warbling Vireo
175	Red-eyed Vireo
176	Loggerhead Shrike
177	Canada Jay
178	Blue Jay
179	Black-billed Magpie
180	American Crow
181	Fish Crow
182	Common Raven
183	Carolina Chickadee
184	Black-capped Chickadee
185	Tufted Titmouse
186	Horned Lark
187	Bank Swallow
188	Tree Swallow
189	Purple Martin
190	Northern Rough-winged Swallow
191	Barn Swallow
192	Cliff Swallow
193	Ruby-crowned Kinglet
194	Golden-crowned Kinglet
195	White-breasted Nuthatch
196	Brown-headed Nuthatch
197	Red-breasted Nuthatch
198	Blue-gray Grantcher
199	House Wren
200	Winter Wren
201	Sedge Wren
202	Marsh Wren
203	Carolina Wren
204	European Starling
205	Gray Catbird
206	Brown Thrasher
207	Northern Mockingbird
208	Eastern Bluebird
209	Mountain Bluebird
210	Townsend's Solitaire
211	Veery
212	Swainson's Thrush
213	Hermit Thrush
214	Wood Thrush
215	American Robin
216	Dusky Thrush
217	Cedar Waxwing
218	House Sparrow
219	Sprague's Pipit
220	Evening Grosbeak
221	House Finch
222	Purple Finch
223	Common Redpoll
224	Red Crossbill
225	White-winged Crossbill
226	Pine Siskin
227	American Goldfinch
228	Lapland Longspur
229	Chestnut-collared Longspur
230	Snow Bunting
231	Grasshopper Sparrow
232	Chipping Sparrow
233	Clay-colored Sparrow
234	Field Sparrow
235	Lark Sparrow
236	Lark Bunting
237	Dark-eyed Junco
238	White-throated Sparrow
239	Vesper Sparrow
240	LeConte's Sparrow
241	Seaside Sparrow
242	Nelson's Sparrow
243	Savannah Sparrow
244	Baird's Sparrow
245	Henslow's Sparrow
246	Song Sparrow
247	Swamp Sparrow
248	Spotted Towhee
249	Eastern Towhee
250	Yellow-breasted Chat
251	Yellow-headed Blackbird
252	Bobolink
253	Western Meadowlark
254	Eastern Meadowlark
255	Orchard Oriole
256	Bullock's Oriole
257	Baltimore Oriole
258	Red-winged Blackbird
259	Brown-headed Cowbird
260	Brewer's Blackbird
261	Common Grackle
262	Ovenbird
263	Worm-eating Warbler
264	Louisiana Waterthrush
265	Northern Waterthrush
266	Golden-winged Warbler
267	Blue-winged Warbler
268	Black-and-white Warbler
269	Nashville Warbler
270	MacGillivray's Warbler
271	Mourning Warbler
272	Kentucky Warbler
273	Common Yellowthroat
274	Hooded Warbler
275	American Redstart
276	Cape May Warbler
277	Cerulean Warbler
278	Northern Parula
279	Blackburnian Warbler
280	Yellow Warbler
281	Chestnut-sided Warbler
282	Pine Warbler
283	Yellow-rumped Warbler
284	Yellow-throated Warbler
285	Prairie Warbler
286	Black-throated Green Warbler
287	Canada Warbler
288	Summer Tanager
289	Scarlet Tanager
290	Western Tanager
291	Northern Cardinal
292	Rose-breasted Grosbeak
293	Black-headed Grosbeak
294	Blue Grosbeak
295	Lazuli Bunting
296	Indigo Bunting
297	Dickcissel