What's your hook?

  (Long-eared owl, Asio otus, spotted Jan. 1, 2010, at Antelope Island State Park)

We spotted this sleepyhead during one of the National Audubon Society's annual Christmas Bird Counts. He was among six long-eared owls found roosting in a tree along the edge of Utah's Great Salt Lake. Bill Fenimore, author, one of the West's premier birders and owner of Wild Bird Center of Layton, said long-eared owls are among those who roost in colonies in winter.

It was an amazing find. To get an idea of just how well these guys blend in, check out the "Reader Photos" album for a shot of two more long-eared owls, one of which is barely discernible.

Audubon's Christmas counts occur among local Audubon groups nationwide from Dec. 14 to Jan. 5. It is more than a tradition. It is citizen science at its best. These counts have been going on for 110 years, and are, as Fenimore notes, "the oldest continuous count of of any kind."

The first year was what people called a "side hunt." Basically, hunters went out on Christmas Day and accumulated "the biggest pile of fur and feathers" that they could, Fenimore said.

Not exactly the activity we engage in today, where teams of birders divide their regions into areas and count the number of each species they find. We are up with (actually, before) the sun and count for eight hours or more, depending on the size of the area, the number of counters, the weather and terrain. John Bellmon, another of the region's premier birders and a founder of the Wasatch Audubon Society, started the Ogden-area Christmas Bird Count 30 years ago.

As we milled about in the parking lot at the edge of the causeway that leads out to Antelope Island, I told Fenimore of our recent trip to Florida and the fact that I'd spotted a green heron -- my first.

"The green heron was my hook bird," Fenimore said. "What's your hook bird?"

A "hook bird," as the name suggests, is the one that is attributed for getting someone hooked on birding.

And I am not sure I have one.

Maybe it is the rough-legged hawk, a magnificent winter visitor in the Intermountain West that, when viewed as it soars overhead, has black wing spots and dark belly band that look like a flying smiley face.

Maybe it is the sandhill crane, which I first saw some 20 years ago congregating in huge flocks as I pedaled my bicycle past fallow strawberry fields in central Florida on Saturday mornings. Maybe it should be the western meadowlark -- my "bike-ride bird" -- whose melodious has call provided the soundtrack for every bicycle ride I have loved out West.

Maybe it is the Clark's Nutcracker, which I first identified on my own as I hiked up Deep Canyon in Utah's Wellsville Mountains some 10 years ago. The hike led to an 8,000-foot ridge with a near-360-degree view of Cache and Box Elder counties. Following the trail farther along the ridge line brought me to the spot where bird counters for HawkWatch International counted migrating raptors birds each fall.

Maybe it was the golden eagle I identified while sitting atop that ridge with HawkWatch.

More likely, however, it is some long-forgotten common bird such as a house sparrow or American robin that greeted me each day in the back yard when I was a child. For many of us, the relationships we hold with nature have evolved over time and, most likely, include many hooks. Crawdads, the apple trees in my front yard, the lilac and forsythia bushes in back and the wild strawberries and raspberries that my best pal Julie Frizzell and I picked as children in central Indiana are among my "hooks."

If you are inclined to make New Year's resolutions, then resolve to find at least one hook this year. If you have children in your life, make sure they come along. An adult who appreciates, understands, spends time with, and advocates on behalf of, nature starts with a child who collects hooks -- lightning bugs, rocks, perfect poking sticks, seashells, lists of bugs and birds.

Once you're hooked, you're hooked. My bird list is nearing 300, and there is a collection of rocks in a saucer in the living room and seashells gathering dust in the bathroom.

Comments

[Moncler Jackets Outlet]

We meant to share with you our first visit here in November, not to mention our stay at the Ace New York last early June. We're definitely smitten with this fledgling chain, and are even looking forward to popping up to Portland soon, in part because of the original Ace there.