Sarah L. Stewart
April 23, 2008

When the white-faced ibis comes into focus through the spotting scope, Tom Wiesen’s breath catches for a moment. The maroon-legged, chocolately iridescent bird is a transient in Eagle County, stopping only briefly on its way north for the summer. This flock of a half-dozen or so on the marsh just downwind of the Wastewater Treatment Plant near Edwards is the first Wiesen has seen this spring.

“Oh, these guys are awesome,” Wiesen says. “I’ve been waiting for them to get here this year.”

As the ibises probe the mud for food, a common snipe takes flight for a few seconds — just long enough to tease Wiesen before disappearing back into the reeds. He scans the area with his binoculars, hoping to catch another glimpse of the well-camouflaged bird.

“Oh my God, they’re so hard to see,” he says.

Wiesen is part of a small — but passionate — bird watching community in Eagle County. For Wiesen and his fellow local birders, now begins the prime time for bird watching, when birds are in their finest spring plumage and migratory species, like the ibis, are passing through the county. For the next two months or so, birds will be courting, nesting, foraging and raising young — and birders will be watching.

“It’s an adventure,” says Wiesen, who owns TrailWise Guides, a nature tour company based in Vail. “You have to have faith that you’ll seek and you’ll find.”

Birds of a feather
Nationwide, bird watching is one of the most popular outdoor activities. In 2006, there were 47.7 million birdwatchers in the United States, according to a study by the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service. That’s more than seven times the number of skiers that year (6.4 million, according to the National Ski Areas Association), more than nine times the number of snowboarders (5.2 million) and more than the number of people who went fishing or hunting — combined (42.5 million, U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service).

So who are all these millions of bird watchers? Based on Fish & Wildlife statistics, the average birder is around age 50, has above average income and education, and likely lives in a small town. In other words, a lot of the valley’s residents would fit the profile of the typical bird watcher. But talk to Eagle County birders, and most can name only a handful of fellow bird watchers who live in the county, compared to much larger birding communities in counties to the west and east.

“I wish it was a little bigger right here,” says Pat Hammon, a lifelong birder who lives in Eagle. “There just doesn’t seem to be enough people to sustain it.”

The birding community might not be as large as in the Roaring Fork Valley or on the Front Range, but those who do partake are rewarded by the quality of bird watching here.

“It’s very good because of the diversity,” Wiesen says. The vast elevation differences in the county support many different habitats, and therefore many different species of birds — 200, in fact, have been recorded here.

“(Eagle County) gets passed over probably more than it should,” says Nathan Pieplow, editor of the journal Colorado Birds in Boulder.

Flocking around the world
Even birders who keep their eyes trained on Eagle County skies occasionally chase the thrill of the exotic on far-flung birding journeys.

Earlier this month, Eagle residents Jerry and Jan Fedrizzi traveled to southern Texas on the trail of a few species they’d never seen before. Their trip yielded eight or nine “new” birds, including a red-eyed vireo and yellow-throated warbler.

In birding terms, traveling a thousand miles or so to identify a handful of new birds qualifies as a success.

“There’s a lot of new birds that are very, very challenging for us,” Jan Fedrizzi says. “There’s a lot of satisfaction when you finally figure out what that bird is.”

A year ago, Hammon traveled to Bhutan for an “amazing” birding trip with fellow Vail birder Anne Esson. They racked up more than 250 species, nearly all of which were new to them. Esson has also traveled to Costa Rica and Panama for birding, and even tried to identify a bird she spotted through a window at a Denver theater recently.

“One thing that happens to you, you get to where you want to carry your binoculars everywhere,” Esson says.

Within the United States, birders will travel long distances at the whisper of a rare sighting. In December, a streaked-back oriole caused a stir when the bird, a Mexican species never before recorded in Colorado, appeared at a backyard birdfeeder in Loveland. The day after its sighting was confirmed, 80 birders showed up to see it; during the three weeks it hung around, 450 people visited from as far away as Alaska and New Jersey.

“They come out of the woodwork sometimes,” Pieplow says.

Lifelong birding, lifelong learning
Back at the marsh, the snipe continues to elude Wiesen. But beneath his gaze, the seemingly empty pond comes alive. Clinging to the top of a cattail, a yellow-headed blackbird stakes out his territory, his golden head gleaming in the late-day sun. Pairs of mountain bluebirds dart like scattered sapphires on the marsh, and a raptor, likely a red-tailed hawk, circles overhead.

Birding with Wiesen feels, in a way, like cheating. He takes the guesswork out of identifying birds — often he doesn’t even consult his wrinkled and taped copy of “The Sibley Guide to Birds.” He knows many Eagle County species by memory. But even Wiesen keeps his binoculars perched on the dashboard, ready at a moment’s notice, and the Sibley guide rests between the front seats of his hybrid SUV. That’s because bird watching, for amateurs and pros alike, is a constant hobby, and a constant learning process.

“Every year, I become a better birder,” Wiesen says.

Birds are everywhere, which means birders are continually assessing their habitat, behavior, appearance and other subtle clues to properly identify them.

“It’s kind of an intellectual challenge,” says Pieplow, who estimates he’s seen 1,700 types of birds worldwide and 420 of Colorado’s 487 documented species.

Part of the challenge for some birders is keeping a life list, which documents all the species a birder has identified. It’s a log some fervently adhere to, while other equally passionate birders don’t even keep one.

“Some people are fanatical about their life list,” Hammon says. “Birders are all characters, and they’re all wonderful.”

A character, perhaps, but a lister Wiesen is not.

What brings him back to this marsh, what turns his eyes to the horizon wherever he goes, is not the desire to check another bird off his list. It’s the glimpse birding offers him into a world so closely overlapped with our own, yet so separate.

“It’s the whole observing part that’s the fascinating part,” he says. “When you tune into the bird world, it’s a happening little world.”

Sarah L. Stewart can be reached for comment at (970) 748-2982 or sstewart@vailtrail.com.