magazine / so00
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September/October 2000 issue |
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A bird in the hand
Tracking the songbirds of the boreal forest
By Candace Savage
TO JUDGE FROM THE PICTURES in the field guide, the blackpoll warbler is drab,
a small brownish bird streaked with white and black that is distinguished
during the breeding season by the male’s dark cap. But the little creature
lying quietly in Jul Wojnowski’s hand is far from nondescript. Its black
cap glistens; its beak gleams needle-sharp; its round eyes are bright with
awareness.
For Wojnowski, being eye to eye with a warbler is all in a day’s work.
As chief bander at the Lesser Slave Lake Bird Observatory in north-central
Alberta and, before that, at a similar centre at Long Point on Lake Erie,
he has handled thousands of songbirds. Yet despite this familiarity, Wojnowski
remains astonished by the life he holds in his hands. “The birds we
intercept at the observatories are on a mission,” he says. “What
they are doing is awe-inspiring.”
Like many other songbirds that nest in the boreal forest, the blackpoll warbler
is a long-distance migrant. In the fall, its mission is to travel 20,000 kilometres
from northern Canada to southern Brazil, a journey that includes a three-day
non-stop flight over the ocean. Come spring, it will make this epic voyage
in reverse, as the tide of birdlife flows back toward Canada’s northernmost
forest.
The purpose of the observatories is to sample this migratory flood as it
surges north and south, to assess the populations of blackpolls and of more
than 100 other bird species. The information gathered by Wojnowski at Lesser
Slave Lake, and by others at Long Point and 13 other stations across Canada,
is then forwarded to the fledgling Canadian Migration Monitoring Network.
The research protocol of the network could be summarized as “catch
and release.” Every morning from April to mid-June and again from mid-July
to October, Wojnowski and his counterparts across the country set up their
mist nets before dawn. (Think of large, rectangular hairnets erected on poles.)
As migrating birds drop down into the woods to feed after a long night’s
flight, a few fly into these obstacles and come to a sudden halt. Skilled
hands immediately go to work, gently disentangling them from the nets and
fitting each individual with a numbered leg band. Data are entered for every
capture — species, age, sex, band number, and so on — and in a
matter of minutes, the bird is set free to continue on its travels.
At Lesser Slave Lake, this routine will be repeated about 5,000 times this
year. Across the entire network, the total will be more than 60,000 birds.
Since the counts in any one season are affected by weather and other variables,
this effort must be sustained for at least 10 years before long-term trends
can be teased out of the data.
This is a prodigious commitment, but one that is necessary to address a gaping
hole in our knowledge. Without migration monitoring, we would know virtually
nothing about what is happening to the birds that nest in the boreal forest.
In the past, the main tool for tracking songbird populations has been an annual
bird-counting bee called the Breeding Bird Survey (BBS). Now entering its
thirty-fifth year, the BBS deploys a small army of birders to drive along
country roads in southern Canada and the United States and record their observations.
But where the grid roads come to an end, so does the BBS — an omission
that encompasses most of the boreal forest and about one-sixth of North American
birds.
As logging and other industries expand into the boreal forest, so does the
potential for harm. “We are the biggest factor affecting these species
and their habitats,” Wojnowski says. “Ultimately, it’s our
responsibility to ensure that we don’t cause populations to become threatened
or go extinct.”
FOR THE MOMENT, our knowledge is hazy, but the picture will come into sharper
focus over the coming years, as the stations in the network continue their
research. Several are faced with a backlog of records that must be computerized;
others, like the six-year-old Lesser Slave Lake observatory, are patiently
extending their data collection so the numbers can be analyzed. At present,
only the Long Point observatory, which dates back four decades, has a long
enough string of data to provide trustworthy results.
These early indications are surprisingly positive. Since the 1970s and 1980s,
when many species of warblers suffered sharp declines, the counts at Long
Point have been on a steady rise. Of the 20 tropical-wintering warblers noted
at the observatory, 14 (including the dapper blackpoll) have increased significantly
over the past 10 years. Several others — the Tennessee, bay-breasted,
Cape May and Blackburnian warblers — are currently depressed, but this
is probably the result of cyclic variations in their preferred food, the spruce
budworm. Sadly, there is no easy explanation for the declines of the ovenbird,
wood thrush and veery, all of which appear to be ever-so-gradually disappearing.
Charles Francis, senior scientist and statistician for the Migration Monitoring
Network, warns against putting too much stock in these preliminary results. "I
don’t think we have enough data yet to be sure we know what is going
on," he cautions. He looks forward to the day when all the stations are
fully on board, and their results can be compared and interpreted. But the
speed with which this will happen depends, in part, on the availability of
funds, which must be pieced together, station by station, year by year, from
contracts, grants and private donations. "Funding is always a challenge," says
Francis.
Yet one way or another, that challenge is being met. If bird migration is
a miracle, the creation of the Migration Monitoring Network is a small miracle
in itself. The future of our boreal-forest avian migrants has fallen into
good hands.
For more information on the Lesser Slave Lake Bird Observatory, visit
its website at www.lslbo.org. The
Migration Monitoring Network is at www.bsc-eoc.org/volunteer/cmmn/.
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