According to the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources, Wisconsin is home to more than 300 species of birds.
Every year thousands of birders dress for the weather, lace up their hiking boots, douse themselves with bug spray and don field glasses in hopes of getting up close and personal with their favorite frequent flyers. I’ll pass. I’m more of a pour myself a cup of coffee person who enjoys the bird show out on the deck through the patio door glass.
What a performance it is. For 24 years, we’ve had a window view of our feathered friends at Otter Run. I know it’s early, but I’m concerned about the lack of birds this year. As of this writing, I’ve seen one robin, one chickadee, a pair of purple finches and three gold finches. Unfortunately, we have more than enough blackbirds and bluejays, obnoxious bullies that think they own the place.
Out in the woods, wild turkeys and sandhill cranes are busy settling in for another year. We welcomed back our trumpeter swans to the flowage in April. This majestic species seems as taken with Townsend as we are. Everywhere I look, it’s a trade-off. There are more loons, but fewer blue herons. More gulls, but fewer bluebirds. More woodpeckers, but fewer orioles. Ugh.
“Where are all the birds?” I asked my husband this morning. “What on earth is happening here? Or rather, what’s happening here on earth?”
Jon speculated: “It might have been the ice storm, or the blizzard, or maybe wind events on their migratory routes. Why not fire up your laptop and find out?”
I took his advice, and what I learned was more than alarming. Hard numbers confirm what bird lovers have noticed for years. Birds and birdsong are disappearing at a worrisome rate.
According to the Cornell University Lab of Ornithology (CULO), North America has 2.9 billion fewer breeding birds than in 1970, a loss of nearly 30%. CULO reports that even common, beloved species numbers have fallen off the cliff.
For example, evening grosbeak populations have plunged 90%, wood thrushes 60%, eastern meadowlarks 75%, and dark-eyed juncos 50%. The only groups doing well are raptors, waterfowl and woodpeckers, which is due to the ban on harmful pesticides and Endangered Species Act protections.
I’m very familiar with that piece of American conservation history. As a high school sophomore in 1962, I read Rachel Carson’s groundbreaking bestseller “Silent Spring.” Rachel was henceforward affectionately known as the “Bird Lady” and for good reason. Her book launched a global movement that resulted in a ban on DDT.
As I browsed the CULO website, a long-forgotten experience popped into my brain. It was the summer between seventh and eighth grade. My uncle and aunt owned a grocery store in New London. She asked me to babysit my cousins while she caught up on bookwork. We were having fun playing in the yard when she came out and yelled, “Come inside, now!” We didn’t argue even though it was a beautiful summer afternoon.
Now those were the days before air conditioning, and it was stifling hot inside. I politely asked why she had the windows closed and blinds drawn. She pointed to the front picture window. “Take a look.”
Peering out, I saw a passing tanker truck spewing a cloud of fog. I’m sure my expression was a befuddled question mark.
“City’s spraying for mosquitoes,” she explained. “Not good to breathe in that stuff.”
Smart move. That was 10 years prior to DDT and other toxic chemicals being banned. Subsequent efforts to protect the environment have had some success, but in recent years we are going backward. Birds might be our canaries in the coal mine. What?
Birds are Mother Nature’s early warning detectors. They are more sensitive to toxic substances than humans. For two centuries, coal miners took canaries into the shafts to detect poisonous gases. These heroic little creatures saved thousands of lives.
Like it or not, the dots are being connected. The primary causes of bird decline also pose a grave threat to human life. We dismiss the blaring sirens at our own peril.
The presence of fewer birds in northeastern Wisconsin is part of a continent-wide pattern. One major factor is climate change. Resulting extreme weather events cannot be wished away. Add urban sprawl, invasive species, land and water degradation, air and light pollution, collisions with vehicles and buildings, and endless warfare into the mix. That lethal recipe might very well have us teetering on the edge of a cataclysm.
There is a glimmer of hope. The DNR and other environmental groups have been mounting efforts to rescue birds by restoring native habitats, protecting breeding and wintering grounds, and reducing stressors. Yet more needs to be done, so let’s get at it.
Have we forgotten that Earth is the only nesting place humans currently have available?
Kathleen Marsh is a lifelong educator, writer and community advocate. She has published eight books, four on the history of Townsend, where she and husband Jon are happily retired on the beautiful Townsend Flowage.
