Millie LaFontaine lives in Concord.

I missed the statewide bird count the weekend of February 11th and 12th. Thanks to David Brooks’ article in the Monitor this past weekend (“Dust off those binoculars”), I was excited to participate in the Cornell Lab of Ornithology and National Audubon Society Great Backyard Bird Count on February 17th  to 20th, a more global citizen science project, to learn more about the distribution of some of my favorite creatures around the world.

I chose the easiest and most convenient place I could think of: my own backyard. Ever since I reinstalled my bird feeders this winter, I’ve been concerned that our usual flock of neighborhood birds has been shunning us. As evidence, I haven’t had to refill my feeders once in the past couple of months, except to refresh them with new seed as a possible incentive.

Over last summer, I had seen fewer birds than I remembered, but a nice variety, from goldfinches and chickadees to nuthatches and cardinals. I’d actually been a little too late in removing my feeders in the fall, falsely assuming that we weren’t likely to attract marauders to feeders in the heart of the city.

But a roaming bear made a midnight snack of my feeders in early October, so I did what I should have done earlier, and left my birds to their own devices temporarily until I was pretty sure the bear was happily hibernating somewhere far away. But since then, it’s been eerily quiet.

Back to the bird watch. I kept an eye on my feeders for fifteen-minute intervals periodically over the weekend. This confirmed what I had observed for the past several months. We have been essentially deserted by our feathered friends.

In taking several extended walks around the neighborhood, I was struck by the fact that my yard wasn’t the only one in this sad predicament. On one walk I saw (or heard) a few small flocks of sparrows, a single mockingbird, some robins, and a woodpecker. Period.

Obviously, I’m no expert in this, but I’m worried. A highly pathogenic strain of avian flu is infecting wild and migratory birds, which in turn are infecting poultry, decimating the populations of poultry worldwide. You just need to check out egg prices at the grocery store to be aware of this. Is this part of the reason I came up empty in my bird count? Probably a part of it.

Are there simply fewer birds? The Audubon Society reports that in 2022 there were plummeting bird populations across almost all habitats, and designated 70 species as approaching a tipping point toward extinction. More than half of all U.S. bird species are dwindling, as climate change, urbanization, expanding agriculture, unsustainable forest management, and introduced (non-native) species reduce food sources and shrink their habitat.

So, yes, there are fewer birds in backyards, as in other habitats. Is that part of the reason they’re not at my feeders? Probably a big part of it.

But what’s changed about backyards? Actually a lot over the years. This isn’t necessarily new, but there are fewer trees, fewer shrubs, and fewer undisturbed corners in our yards. Perhaps there are even fewer untouched areas since the pandemic, as many of us have paid more attention to our immediate surroundings.

Surprisingly, however, there is a downside to being overzealous in our cleanup and landscaping efforts. Not that backyard jungles are what we need, but asphalt, immaculate lawns, pesticides, and exotic plants are not friendly to our native insects or, in turn, our native birds. If there are fewer birds, those remaining will go where they have the plants and insects they have co-evolved with over millennia for shelter and food sources. They will not go where they don’t feel welcome.

It’s hard not to love birds, but it’s also been hard not to take them for granted. I’m concerned that this year’s bird count will only paint a darker picture of their plight. It’s no longer an option to take them for granted. We can act in big ways and small to improve their chances of survival, but we do need to act.

Ultimately, the earth needs to be a hospitable place for them to live. If it’s not hospitable for them it won’t be hospitable for humans, either. They are, quite literally, the canaries in our coal mine.

]]>