There are only three kinds of birds in the world: black birds, brown birds and eagles. So says my friend Sen. Tom Saviello. Tom opines that biologists make things too complicated, splitting species when they should be lumping them for simplicity. So the state senator from Wilton devised the Saviello classification system where every bird is lumped into one of just three species.
I challenge him on this, of course. How do you fit a cardinal into one of those categories?
Simple, he says, red is just a color variation of brown.
I haven’t personally adopted his system yet, but I do see merit in it. For one thing, I could claim to have seen every species of bird in the world by now, and my life list would be complete at three. Better yet, I could finally stop making changes to my list every year.
Last week’s column discussed the role of the American Ornithological Union in naming and renaming birds as our scientific understanding of bird evolution and distribution improves. The American Ornithological Union sets the standard used by all guide books. It is the standard adopted by the American Birding Association, another totally separate organization hell-bent on confusing birders. The American Birding Association sets criteria for deciding which birds are “countable” on official lists.
As a lad, one of the first birds I could identify was a myrtle warbler. But in 1973, the American Ornithological Union decided that the myrtle warbler in the east and the Audubon’s warbler in the west were really the same species, even though they look distinctly different. Hence, they were lumped into one name — the yellow-rumped warbler, and I’ve been forced to call it that ever since.
The 1990s were an especially confusing time for birders. In 1995, the American Ornithological Union split the sharp-tailed sparrow into two species: the Nelson’s sharp-tailed sparrow and the saltmarsh sharp-tailed sparrow. Not only are they nearly identical, but they overlap and interbreed in Maine, primarily in Scarborough Marsh. To make matters worse, in 2009, the American Ornithological Union decided to rename both sparrows, dropping “sharp-tailed” from each name. That seems minor, but every field guide in North America was rendered instantly out-of-date, including my own book which was published just weeks before the change. Ouch.
I grew up admiring the solitary vireo. I like the way its bright eye-rings join across its beak to give it the appearance of wearing spectacles. Alas, the solitary vireo is no more. In 1997, the American Ornithological Union split it into three different but nearly identical species. Ours became the blue-headed vireo. The two western varieties became Cassin’s and plumbeous vireos.
In 1998, the American Ornithological Union split the Traill’s flycatcher into two species: willow and alder flycatchers. The two species are virtually identical, and they can only be separated in the field by voice. That same year, the American Ornithological Union split the gray-cheeked thrush into two species, elevating the Bicknell’s thrush from subspecies to full species status. The latter nests on Maine mountaintops. The former flies over the state on its way to Newfoundland to breed.
The thrush split gave me a particular problem. I identified my first gray-cheeked thrush on a slope in Cape Breton, Nova Scotia. Happily, I checked it off my life list. But when the American Ornithological Union split the species two years later, which bird had I seen? We have loads of winter wrens in Maine. In 2010, the American Ornithological Union decided the western subspecies was different enough to be reclassified as its own species. It is now the Pacific wren. Have I seen one? I don’t know.
Every year, the American Ornithological Union takes input from scientists and considers changes to nomenclature and taxonomy. A committee of experts considers the evidence, and if two-thirds agree, a change is made. I dread the annual report. Sometimes, it’s good news, as when a split gives me a new bird for my life list. This happens if I have seen the new bird before it being elevated from a subspecies. Sometimes I lose a bird, as happens if two species are lumped into one. Sometimes, I can become totally confused, as will happen if the American Ornithological Union accepts recommendations to split the white-breasted nuthatch into three species and red crossbills into several. Those proposals have been around for a while, and if it happens, I won’t have any idea which birds should remain on my life list and which new birds I’ll have to chase.
This year’s American Ornithological Union report gave me no trouble. Still, maybe I’ll take up stamp-collecting. The names never change.
Bob Duchesne serves as vice president of Maine Audubon’s Penobscot Valley Chapter. He developed the Maine Birding Trail, with information at mainebirdingtrail.com. He can be reached at duchesne@midmaine.com.