Blue Jay Vocabulary

I wrote a guest post for the Wilson Ornithological Society that overviews how I came to complete a recently published study about Blue Jay vocalizations and what I found. Sound interesting? If so, check it out here:

Guest Post: What Do Blue Jays Say? — Wilson Ornithological Society

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What is a Scientist? Conferences

This is the first post in my ‘What is a Scientist?’ series. There seems to be a lot of distrust of scientists by a large section of the population. My hope is that sharing my perspectives about some of my experiences as a scientist can help build trust.

What is a Scientist? Conferences

I grew up knowing very little about what being a practicing scientist meant. I probably thought that all scientists wore a lab coat, that they had to be really smart, or that I couldn’t understand what they did even if I tried. I imagine that many people probably have similarly misguided thoughts about what it means to be a scientist.

In this post, I’ll reflect on my first attendance at a scientific conference. This experience was about 10 years ago and helped me understand what scientists do. I’ll also reflect on a conference that I attended earlier this year. During that time span, I went from being someone who knew basically nothing about science to someone who actually feels like a scientist. I’ll share how my opinions have evolved from when I was a somewhat blindly rebellious, 20-year-old to whatever I am now (maybe in 10 years I will have an opinion about that).

In the fall of 2012, when I attended my first conference, I was beginning my third year in an undergraduate wildlife science program. My favorite classes up to that point were those which focused on identifying, and memorizing the Latin names of, many different species. I especially enjoyed getting to know the trees of Indiana. Just a couple summers before, I had completed my first field job, which involved documenting bird occurrences throughout the Hoosier National Forest. Camping, hiking, solitude, and birds. Really a great job. In class that semester, I was just beginning to get experience with collecting data and writing about it but I certainly did not understand much about the whole process of creating and sharing scientific knowledge. In other words: I had recently gained some understanding regarding many of the different parts of Nature, which I greatly enjoyed, but I had very little knowledge about how to more deeply understand and create/share knowledge about how those parts interacted.

That year, I was lucky enough to join my university’s student chapter of The Wildlife Society to the annual conference for that society, which happened to be across the continent in Portland, Oregon. Which is a cool city! I remember arriving to the hotel near the conference center and feeling like an explorer in a foreign wilderness, given that I had no idea what to expect regarding conferences. I didn’t have anything to present. I knew few people and wasn’t particularly good friends with anyone I was with. Therefore, it was a great opportunity to meet new people and learn from them. At the time, though, I was for the most part still too shy to try to meet new people. So, as I recall, my first conference experience was largely a solitary one.

To be honest, there aren’t many specific things that I remember about the trip to Portland for that conference. I wish I had taken better notes back then. I remember visiting Multnomah Falls during a field trip, my heart beating startlingly fast as a participant in a wildlife-themed quiz bowl in front of hundreds of people, and unintentionally annoying at least one of my travel-mates by wandering off one day when we were all in the food truck area. I also remember a networking event when I got to meet Purdue alumni and learn about their careers. During my free time, I probably visited Powell’s Books and Voodoo Doughnut, which I’d recommend.

Me near Portland in 2012, at Multnomah Falls

One thing I definitely remember, however, was a feeling I had in the sprawling conference center, where there were many different rooms that were designated for specific wildlife science disciplines. For example, there might have been a room for invasive species management, another for endangered species conservation, etc. And in each of these rooms people met to either present talks or listen to others speak. There were also ‘poster sessions,’ where people stood by posters that described their research and hoped someone would stop by to talk to them. The feeling I remember when I was wandering from room to room, and from poster session to session, was disappointment/disgust. I distinctly remember feeling that presenters tended to care more about advancing their careers than about conserving/managing wildlife. I felt like everyone was focusing so much on their own discipline that they were missing the bigger picture. And it didn’t seem to me that people had the deep personal connection and adoration for Nature that had gotten me interested in wildlife science.  

A view from Portland in 2012. Note Mt. Hood in the distance.

I will be the first to admit that at that point in my life I was too quick to feel strongly and to jump to drastic, unnuanced conclusions. During my first conference experience I had a romanticized view of what it meant to be a wildlife biologist and had a tendency to rebel against just about anything. I think that much of what I felt then was wrong. I’m sure that most people at that conference did very much care about improving our ability to conserve and manage wildlife. Many people there probably had a far greater knowledge of other disciplines than I did. And certainly a large proportion of them had a deeper ‘connection’ with Nature than I could even begin to understand. However, despite my immaturity at the time, I have often thought back on my initial impressions of a scientific conference and have tried to maintain a couple traces of wisdom I had while still ‘outside of the system.’ As I’ve joined the scientific community, by sharing knowledge at conferences and via scientific articles, I’ve tried to remind myself of a couple important things based on what I saw as a somewhat blind, 20-year-old outsider:

  1. There are a lot of important things I should try to understand outside of my narrow area of expertise. I should seek a broad understanding. However, there is nothing wrong with a specific research focus.
  2. While some self-promotion may be necessary to continue doing science, it shouldn’t be the reason for doing science. Personally, I have chosen to do science to help conserve the natural world, not to feed my ego.  

Another thing that I didn’t think much about then, but do now, is the ecological footprint of conferences. It seems striking to me that so many people who think about the effects of climate change seem to travel vast distances by plane without considering their Carbon footprint. For this reason, I actually think that the switch to virtual conferences that happened during the worst of COVID was a good thing that shouldn’t be totally abandoned. But I suppose that should be a discussion for another post!

After attending my first conference, I completed my Bachelor’s in wildlife science, then my Master’s in applied ecology. I held several wildlife-focused positions and am now hopefully in the last year of my PhD in earth and ecosystem science. It has been a long road to understanding how data are collected, analyzed, and presented. This February, I rode along with some students from my university to Des Moines, Iowa for the Midwest Fish and Wildlife Conference, where I presented my research focusing on king rail habitat (which is now rare in the Midwest). It was a long ride in a van, and there was an intense snowstorm, but we made it there and back.

My travel group and I on the way to and from Des Moines.

Though I enjoyed the company of my travel-mates, I consciously chose while there to try to meet new people at the conference. I’ve come to understand that perhaps the biggest value of a conference is simply to make connections. So, during the first breakfast, I joined someone who was sitting alone and as a result learned a bit more about the consulting industry in wildlife. At social events, though I checked in with my travel mates, I tried to be available to people I didn’t know who might be interested in talking about their science and/or other experiences.

I also very much enjoyed learning from a variety of talks and posters. I made a point to go to talks outside of my area of expertise. For example, I was fascinated by a talk about how turtles have moved around a campus in Missouri over many years. I also enjoyed the ‘plenary’ sessions, which were times when everyone from the conference could come together to listen to a speaker or speakers. I found it especially useful to learn more about Neonicotinoids, a type of pesticide used in agriculture that can likely have very negative effects on wildlife.  

And then, toward the end of the conference, it was time for me to present my research. Though I had presented posters at conferences, and talks at my universities, it was my first talk at a conference. I was excited for the opportunity to share with managers and others who could help king rails about what I had found out regarding the needs of this species. In addition to most of my travel-mates, who were kind enough to attend my talk, there were probably twenty or so people in the room when I presented four around 15 minutes. I hope that they enjoyed learning about what habitat king rails use and how much.

A view from Des Moines in 2022.

I wonder if any of the attendees of my talk felt like I had in 2012 when attending the talks of others. Did they think that I was hyper-focused on king rails and didn’t appreciate other topics? Did they think that I was just trying to promote myself? Did they think that I didn’t feel a connection with Nature? Perhaps. As a scientist, I’ve learned that I do need to stick to what I know when presenting. I probably shouldn’t speculate much about the patterns of ocean currents during a talk about king rail habitat in the Great Lakes region. And, regarding self-promotion, it is a fact that my career as a scientist will end if no one knows what I’ve been doing. So, I have to share and this may come across as an ego-driven activity. But in reality, I simply have to share what I’ve done to be able to keep doing what I love: being in and trying to understand/conserve Nature. Perhaps this goal of mine comes across in scientific talks, but the fact is that I’m there to present information and someone, like my former self, could mistakenly conclude that I don’t ‘feel a connection’ to Nature. In reality, becoming an ecologist has helped me to feel more connected to the world and its inhabitants than I ever felt before.

In summary, I’ve come to think that conferences and the knowledge that they help to share are a good thing. In general, I don’t think there is much better than people coming together to share ideas and knowledge that are meant to do good.

Note: I appreciate the support I received from my universities, and the Midwest Association of Fish and Wildlife Agencies, to gain the experiences described in this post.

Blue Jay Calls: Hawk Mimicry

On Monday I was leaving campus at the end of another long day. My partner and I were in the library parking lot and I was worn down after a lot of time at the computer working on dissertation research. I decided to study wildlife to be outside, but after data are collected—especially as one’s career progresses—most time tends to be spent inside analyzing data and writing about it. As we were about ready to get into our car, I heard what I was pretty sure was a Blue Jay imitating a Cooper’s Hawk from a row of oaks that bisected the parking lot. I’d seen a Blue Jay in the oak trees in that direction just before I heard the interesting call.

Here is the type of call, uttered by an actual Cooper’s Hawk, that I thought I’d heard:

XC554004 Cooper’s Hawk (Accipiter cooperii) :: xeno-canto

Like I often do, I wandered away toward a bird with little or no explanation. Maybe I said, “there is a Blue Jay over there.” Luckily, my partner is an ecologist, so she understands—or, at least accepts—my strange behavior.

As I approached the tree line, it became clear that indeed a Blue Jay was imitating a Cooper’s Hawk while foraging. Here is the footage:

Foraging Blue Jay Imitates Cooper’s Hawk – YouTube

Blue Jays have been observed on many occasions imitating/mimicking other species. Often, I’ve noticed, they imitate their potential predators. There are several reasons that the jay I saw could have been imitating a Cooper’s Hawk. Given that it appeared to be foraging alone, the bird might have been calling as a way to deter other birds from competing for a valuable food source. Little acorns were just beginning to form on the oaks, but I think the jay was eating something else on the ground. The Blue Jay might have been just showing off a unique call which it had learned that could, when combined with the other calls in its repertoire, impress another jay. It is also possible that the bird was indicating nearby danger, though I don’t think that was the case in this instance. However, when I studied Blue Jay vocalizations for my Master’s research, I frequently observed jays imitating predators (Red-tailed Hawk, American Crow) as I approached Blue Jay nests. It was as if they were indicating danger to their mates by imitating a species that was dangerous to them. Or maybe they had been trying to scare me off by imitating something that scared them.

My favorite memory from my Master’s research is the afternoon when I heard a pair of Blue Jays utter uncannily-convincing American Crow calls as I approached their fledglings. A recording from that day of that call type, as well as other Blue Jay call types that I described in a recently-published study, can be found at the below link. The most convincing American Crow call is at the very end of the file called ‘NamesAndCalls_Row3.’

The vocal repertoire of Blue Jays (Cyanocitta cristata): spectrographic snapshots and suggested nomenclature | Zenodo

Yesterday, when I was leaving campus on my bike, I noticed a Cooper’s Hawk flying high overhead. I was only a few hundred yards to the northwest of where I’d recorded the Blue Jay on Monday. I put down my kickstand and watched as the hawk boldly flew above me, clearing carrying something in its talons. Was it my Blue Jay friend?!? No, I was able to tell, it was some kind of rodent. A little relieved, I pedaled home.

This morning, at around 7:00 am or so, I was sitting in the backyard with my loyal canine companion at my feet. We were both thinking about what we wanted to accomplish today. As I thought, I listened to several Blue Jays calling around the neighborhood. Within the last couple weeks, a pair of Blue Jays successfully hatched young from the sycamore behind our house and ever since I’ve been listening to the calls of hidden fledglings as they beg for and then noisily receive food. But this morning it was just adult calls, mostly the ones that jays utter when they are flying and attempting to stay in contact with allies. The calls suddenly changed to what I call ‘Burry Descending Jay,’ and several American Robins began ‘tutting,’ so I wondered if they were concerned about something.

Then, like a low and straight arrow about 15 feet above the ground, a Cooper’s Hawk flew from east to west across our backyard almost right over me. And the jays kept calling, as if I needed to be convinced more to share about the special birds that we call Blue Jays and one of the many challenges that have shaped them. Gradually the ‘tuts’ of the robins stopped and the Blue Jays resumed calls that generally don’t indicate danger. I carefully listened for what jays and other birds will teach anyone who pays attention. And all, for the moment, again became calm.

Snowy Owl by Roadside

My parent’s and I were lucky enough to come across a Snowy Owl* that was perched beside a central Michigan road. It was the first time that my mom had seen a Snowy Owl in-person, after years of watching the fields during car rides, and the first time that my dad had seen one in 8 years (despite searching with me every year). I’m glad I captured the moment, and hope you enjoy it:

*Snowy Owls are the largest owls in North America, based on weight. They breed in the arctic, though many (like the one above) migrate south during the winter, when they are commonly found throughout the northern U.S. If you ever would like to go ‘owling’ (I’d encourage it!), please be respectful and try to avoid flushing any owl you might find. Many owls, including Snowys, spend long periods during the day roosting. So, when they are forced to fly, precious energy is unnecessarily used and they are exposed to potential predators. The video found at the following link provides a great overview of how to be respectful to owls and other birds you might want to observe: https://vimeo.com/149465659

Sandhill Cranes, Egg Hatching

Last weekend, my partner and I stopped during a road trip by a small pond amidst natural habitat in southeast Michigan. While we were stretching our legs, and our dog was diligently collecting sticktight seeds on his fur, we heard the excited, sharp and rapid bugles of a few sandhill cranes as they glided down to the water’s edge. They were noticeably bigger than the Great Egret that was wading nearby. Their slate-gray feathers, I thought, offered a striking contrast both to the flowering goldenrod behind them and my memories of this summer when I got to see Sandhills in their rusty-brown plumage.

Seeing those cranes last weekend reminded me that this spring, when I was walking through the marsh for fieldwork, I happened upon a Sandhill Crane nest at a special time. One chick had just hatched and another was breaking through its egg. Before I respectfully left the area, I recorded video footage that I’m sharing today.

I like to think that those chicks, along with their devoted parents that are heard in the video, are preparing to head south for the winter, or maybe even have embarked on their journey already. Given that the chicks I was lucky enough to see were about 70 miles north of the pond where we stopped at last weekend, the thought even crossed my mind that maybe I had seen the chicks again, all grown up. Though that is very unlikely, I like to think that the birds in the below video will soon be awkwardly leaping with others and adding to the amazing, seemingly-joyful chorus of thousands of migrating Sandhill Cranes at nearby places like Phyllis Haehnle Memorial Audubon Sanctuary.

You’ve found a marked bird. Now what?

This summer, I was lucky enough to get to spend some time at Ottawa National Wildlife Refuge in northwest Ohio. It is a beautiful place that I’d hightly recommend as a destination for anyone who appreciates wildlife.

During one of my visits, I noticed that an adult Trumpeter Swan caring for cygnets looked like it had something around its neck. Not sure what it was, I had a closer look with my binoculars. This is what I saw:

Neck-collared Trumpeter Swan at Ottawa National Wildlife Refuge.

Because I’ve banded hundreds of birds (put tiny metal rings around their feet), I knew when I saw this neck collar that a researcher had put it there to improve our knowledge of this species. By reporting where marked birds are detected, we can learn about how long their species live and where they go. So, I noted the collar number and then went to this website. From there, I reported the number I read on the collar, which identified the bird. I also reported when and where my observation occurred. Doing so only took a couple minutes, but provided information that could help to better understand, and so protect, this amazing species.

Marked Trumpeter Swan with cygnets.

I thought I’d share this experience in case you didn’t know that you can help out birds by reporting the numbers on bands, neck collars, or other markings on birds that you observe.

Not only will you help to conserve birds by reporting such observations, but you’ll also get a certificate from the US Geological Survey which includes information about when and where the bird was marked. Another Trumpeter Swan I saw this summer was marked as a cygnet 16 years ago!! I sighted that bird about 6.5 miles from where it was marked.

I just submitted the collar number of the marked swan that I shared pictures of in this post. I can’t wait to find out when and where it was marked!

Lights Out Tonight! For the birds.

Hundreds of millions of birds will be migrating over many of us in North America tonight! Like a biological flood, they flow in pulses that are pronounced this time of year. Billions of individuals will migrate this fall, as hundreds of bird species head south. Here is a great site for seeing nightly migration forecasts:

It is, however, a perilous journey – especially due to lights at night which can disorient, attract to suboptimal habitat, and likely will kill perhaps hundreds of millions of birds this year. The good news? Each one of us, especially those in urban areas, can do our part to help make sure that this awe-inspiring flood of life isn’t reduced to a trickle. Just turn off your lights between 11:00 pm and 6:00 am, and spread the word. Check out this site for more information:

By the way, if you want to experience the migration you can head outside on a night with clear skies and a bright moon. Pull out your binoculars and look at the moon. You just might see migrating birds or other animals flying between you and the moon. You also might hear their high-pitched calls as flocks fly overhead.

Don’t Litter! Save a Life

While driving to get groceries, my mother noticed something strange at the very edge of the road. So, she pulled over and investigated. Only inches from where traffic sped by, she saw this (she took the picture):

Was it a raccoon? Or a opossom? Whatever it was, she could see that it was shaking, she tells me. So, despite being worried that she might get bit, my mom took a brave step forward and pulled off the bag. And what did she see?!? This:

What a relief it must’ve been for the little cat to be freed from the greasy darkness! It ran away, and luckily didn’t get hit by a car while doing so. A life saved. Good job, mom!

If anyone needs convincing why not to litter (or knows someone who needs to be convinced), I thought that these pictures could help. Individuals of many species could be similarly imperiled by people who litter, or by people who don’t pick up trash when they can, and none of them deserve the fear and further suffering which can result.

Domesticated outdoor cats, I have to point out, can cause great environmental harm. Because they tend to be fed by humans, their instinctive killing is especially hard on their prey (e.g., song birds). Unlike in a natural predator-prey relationship, domesticated cat populations don’t decrease after the populations of their prey decrease. And so the relentless killing by outdoor cats can consequently drive their prey to local extirpation, or even extinction.

Hopefully this cat that my mom’s kindness saved ran home to a relieved human friend, who will keep it inside. Maybe after its ‘cat in the bag’ experience, this particular feline won’t want to go outside again!