ELUSIVE BACHMAN'S SPARROW

Bachman's Sparrow
Photo Courtesy of Sharon Milligan

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Ned Boyajian has pointed out that the status of this bird is now (other than private land in Hancock County) confined to: DeSoto National Forest and the Crane Refuge in Harrison and Jackson Counties. Worth a trip to these areas to see/hear this species.

Bachman’s Sparrow (Aimophila aestivalis) is not one of those gaily feathered birds which hang out near the back door making friends with birdwatchers. This little pinewoods sparrow has humbled many a birder, including this writer. The finely honed and polished skills of the birdseeker are no match for a Bachman’s Sparrow which has no wish to be found – a perogative which it exercises nearly 300 days a year.

Not that this sparrow is rare. It isn’t. Here is south Mississippi it is a year-round resident. If it would only show itself more often, Bachman’s Sparrow would prove to be a fairly common bird in its proper habitat – that being dry, open pine or oak woods with scrubby undercover, which is abundant in all three coastal counties. But woe, the Bachman’s Sparrow is notoriously shy.

Each winter visiting birders escape their cold and birdless climes to pad their lists with southern specialties like the Bachman’s Sparrow. By whatever circuitous route birders use to find a kindred soul who will guide them to this most-wanted species, I have become the inevitable patsy, the one to blame when they leave south Mississippi without their Bachman’s Sparrow. My excuses fall on deaf ears, and the hostiles return north in a seething rage. Small wonder that this little sparrow has become the bane of my existence the root of my frustration, the albatross around my neck.

Bachman’s was known in the earlier Peterson field Guide as the Pinewoods Sparrow. Within the sparrow family, which is generally garbed in woodsy plumages of brown, black, gray and white. Bachman’s is  singularly undistinguished. It sports no whisker marks, no eye stripes, no tail spots, no chest streaks nor any other little clue to its identity. Above, it is streaked a rather sandy, reddish brown; below, it is unstreaked with a buffy breast – not much to go on, to be sure. Sharp observers know that the lack of prominent field marks is perhaps the best field mark of all.

All good birders and inveterate listers must sooner or later face the challenge of Bachman’s Sparrow. It helps to know some basic facts about the challenger. It would rather run than fly. Its tactics for evading the birder hinge upon its earthy coloration and upon the fact that all else being equal, on its home ground. Bachman’s Sparrow is smarter than we are.

Come spring and summer, when the woodland chorus is at its height, be advised that the shy Lothario pours out his ardor from an exposed perch several feet above ground and, in the madness of the moment, may forget to uphold his reputation for shyness.

There are two methods by which an intrepid birder may find a Bachman’s Sparrow. Neither carries any assurance of success and both trust implicitly that fate will smile upon the underdog, in this case, the birder.

Method A is known as the Soggy Boot Method. It works best if at all, during winter after heavy rains. One must take himself and his optimism preferably before breakfast, to the “proper habitat” described above. Begin the search by slogging through the grass and brush where sparrows of assorted species have gathered for breakfast. As they fly up and away in front, if one has done his homework well, Bachman’s Sparrow can be singled out by the process of eliminating several other species. The Soggy Boot Method can be successful in as little as five minutes or in as long as an hour. Victory is dependent upon there being enough water standing underfoot to prohibit the bird from taking their preferred running escape, thus forcing them to move from brush to brush at low heights.

I do not advise Method A except in desperate situations, like Christmas bird counts or being at the 499-bird level and needing a Bachman’s for number-500, but it has worked for me, unfortunately not always on demand.

Method B is less adventuresome, but it is cleaner, dryer and carries less risk of pneumonia. It is called the Open Ears Method. On any spring or summer morning or late afternoon, drive through the open pinewoods and listen.  The song of the Bachman’s Sparrow is a clear liquid whistle, followed by a loose trill or warble. It is often hailed as the sweetest song among sparrows.  (This article was written before the Internet and phone birding “Apps” --Nowadays you can listen to the song Judy describes)

Should you hear it, victory could be only a hundred feet away. Slowly and carefully, follow the song and don’t attempt to get too close. Hopefully, you’ll find your bird camped on the end of a bare branch of pine or nearby brush at a height of about 20 feet. For as long as you are an unobtrusive audience, he’ll sing, and you will know why the Bachman’s Sparrow is worth the challenge.

This article was published in April 1979.

(A reader last week wanted to point out that the increase of bird numbers seen in Mississippi from the 1970s to current day, should in great part be attributed to Judy’s enthusiasm for birds and her influence over others to feel the same.)