Last week my daughter and I got up at dawn and drove to Morgantown. Neither of us are morning people, but this was a special occasion — a bird banding event.
Hosted by professor Christopher Rota, the event was open to the public. If you missed it, don’t worry, it’s a monthly event.
The bird banding started at 5 a.m. and continued to 11 a.m. My daughter and I arrived around 7 a.m. and stayed for a couple of hours. We tagged along as Dr. Rota and several students checked nets they’d set up to catch birds, extracted any caught birds, banded them and logged some data.
It was an informal event, and we chatted and asked questions about the process. Every half hour, they checked the four nets they had set up on the lower part of the arboretum.
Checking at 30 minute intervals ensured that no birds remained stuck in the nets for long, but also left enough time between checks not to scare off birds in the area.
While we were there, they caught two house sparrows, a wood thrush, a white-eyed vireo, an indigo bunting and a couple of cardinals.
The birds flew into the nets and got tangled. The researchers carefully extracted and carried them (each in their own small drawstring bag) back to a nearby area set up to collect data.
A few birds already had bands Dr. Rota put on last year. New captures got bracelets, carefully put on by either Dr. Rota or a student.
After banding, the researchers took measurements of the birds, including lengths of various body parts and weight.
Their sex was also noted — this time of year it is easy to check for a brood patch on the bird’s chest — an area without feathers, which only females develop to increase the efficiency of heat transfer from the mother’s body to the eggs.
To look for this patch Dr. Rota gently breathed on the bird’s chest feathers. He said during other times of year they can’t sex the birds, unless the males and females have different markings.
Next, the birds were released. For each bird the whole experience, although probably unpleasant, took less than half an hour.
I found something interesting about each bird we saw, but the wood thrush was a favorite of mine. Several wood thrushes live near my home, and I enjoy their enchanting flute-like song in the mornings and evenings. (Sometimes they even sing through the warmest part of the day.)
The white-eyed vireo was another treat — I’d never seen or heard this bird before. (I use the Merlin app to ID bird songs and have heard the red-eyed vireo singing near my house.)
This tiny bird weighed in around 11 grams. We got to see its hooked beak.
The indigo bunting caught during the banding event was a female. I’ve seen male indigo buntings often, but never had a close look at a female — she had just a touch of blue on her shoulders on her otherwise brown body.
Indigo buntings apparently learn their songs from other nearby males. Indigo buntings just a few hundred yards apart sing different variations. Specific songs can persist for up to 20 years, according to the Cornell Lab website.
These three species are migratory birds — and like the other two, they migrate at night, using stars to find their way. They winter in Mexico or even northern Central America.
I’m already looking forward to getting up at the break of dawn next month to tag along on the next bird banding event.
ALDONA BIRD is a journalist, previously writing for The Dominion Post. She uses experience gained working on organic farms in Europe to help her explore possibilities of local productivity and sustainable living in Preston County. Email columns@dominionpost.com
