The start of each new year represents a fresh slate of unknown opportunities, a whole new seasonal cycle to be celebrated and explored. There is undoubtedly an equal measure of hope and dread that comes with the anticipation of life’s next chapter, and at times that uncertainty can feel overwhelming. Personally, I find that centering myself on intentional appreciation of the natural world helps me to temper the fears and amplify the joys of day-to-day life. While environmental awareness is by no means a cure-all, and certainly comes with its own set of issues, I am nevertheless grateful for the lifestyle I live as a birder and an educator. If nothing else, the prospect of starting each January with my self-imposed challenge to find 100 species as quickly as possible gives me something to look forward to during the coldest, bleakest days of the year. After the sensational set of experiences I was lucky enough to enjoy in 2024, was particularly anxious to see what surprises 2025 had in store.
Every year list has to start somewhere. Like so many birders, I have a hint of superstition about me when it comes to the auspices of the first bird of the year. The final days of 2024 saw Jacqi and I staying in South Philadelphia with friends, so I knew I would have to work for it if I wanted to secure something more glamorous than a pigeon or a starling for the inaugural bird of 2025. In my experience, however, our urban-adapted invasive species tend to be late risers relative to many native birds. Putting this anecdotal observation to the test, I headed up to the roof of our temporary domicile well ahead of sunrise on New Year’s Day. My reward was a Northern Cardinal, chipping emphatically from the sparsely vegetated alleyways up the block, the second time in recent years that I have kicked off my year listing efforts with this charismatic city slicker. I picked up a handful of additional birds as we made our way home to New York, including Common Raven, both Black and Turkey Vultures, and Bald Eagle. I closed out January 1st the same way I started it, this time atop my own apartment building back in Astoria, watching our local Peregrine Falcon take potshots at passing Red-tailed and Cooper’s Hawks. By nightfall, the 2025 year list stood at 22 species: not a bad start for a day without any dedicated birding outings!
The next few days saw me, and my students, easing back into the daily grind of regularly scheduled classwork. My commutes to and from the school building saw me connecting with species like Merlin and American Kestrel, and I even found time for an afternoon foray into Central Park in search of waterfowl and woodland birds. In additional to expected winter residents like Black-capped Chickadee, Bufflehead, and American Coot, I also successfully tracked down a handful of more unusual visitors, including a flotilla of Common Mergansers at the Reservoir and a lone Snow Goose grazing on the Great Lawn at dusk. I headed into the first weekend of 2025 just shy of the halfway point for the January 100 challenge, eager to make the most of the full docket of birding plans that I had lined up for the next few days.
My first major obligation on the calendar in 2025 was technically one of the last assignments of 2024. It had been several years since I last participated in the Southern Nassau Christmas Bird Count, which is traditionally one of the last Counts to be held each season. Even though I was once again out of town for much of the holiday period, this year’s big day falling even later than usual permitted me to rejoin the fun once again. My assigned beat covered a significant swath of the northern shoreline of Jones Beach State Park, including the saltmarsh channels off Field 10 and the brushy fringes of the Bay Parkway. Highlights of my search effort included a surprise sighting of an American Bittern, a late-lingering Laughing Gull, and a remarkable trio of Black-headed Gulls, contributing to a high count of 5 distinct individuals seen by the Jones Beach team. All of these birds wound up being saves for the Count, which documented an impressive collective total of 134 species despite some challenging windy conditions. I also logged my first-of-year encounter with Common Loons, the American Birding Association’s spectacular selection for the 2025 Bird of the Year, and some light poaching after I finished covering my territory afforded me the opportunity to check off additional favorites like Harlequin Duck, Razorbill, and the ever endearing Yellow-breasted Chat. Jacqi met me at the end of the day to join in the festivities of the compilation dinner, which absolutely lived up to established expectations as an entertaining evening in the company of good friends.
January 5th is celebrated as National Bird Day, and this year I chose to commemorate this little-known holiday by following up on some rarity reports around the City with my buddy Ryan Mandelbaum. Our morning began with an ill-advised search for a White-winged Dove that had been spotted the previous afternoon in Staten Island, with our predictable dip being the traditional result for chases focused on this notoriously elusive vagrant. Nevertheless, we still picked up a handful of welcome year birds during our stakeout, including Orange-crowned Warbler, American Tree Sparrow, and Killdeer. Our luck took a turn for the better when we arrived in the Rockaways, where we successfully tracked down a long-staying Painted Bunting, feasting on seedheads in the grassy lots along the boardwalk with its Clay-colored and Field Sparrow companions. We closed out our circuit with a visit to Shirley Chisholm State Park, where we spotted Eastern Meadowlark, Belted Kingfisher, and the most surprising non-avian critter of the day: a Virginia Opossum. After a whirlwind day exploring the coastal boroughs, we returned to our respective homes to settle in for the evening, with only a handful of species remaining before I reached the triple digits on my 2025 year list.
The first full work week of January proved to be a bit of a slow stretch, with no new year birds added to my tally. As I guided my classes through the process of planning their end-of-unit projects, I kept a close eye on the bird alert channels. The top story in the New York State birding community during the earliest days of 2025 was a developing saga surrounding an unidentified goose that had been first sighted by Karen Randall at the Saratoga Lake boat launch on December 31st. The initial report pegged the bird as a potential Greater White-fronted Goose, but speculation began to fly after grainy photos superficially resembling a Pink-footed Goose were uploaded to the checklist, especially when combined with field notes stating that its legs were actually bright orange. Gradually improving documentation over the course of several sporadic encounters revealed that the goose was, as suspected, a bean-goose, with Taiga Bean-Goose eventually emerging as the apparent specific identification. Although this complicated complex is infamously challenging for both birders and taxonomists to separate, all field marks pointed to this individual being the same individual Taiga that had been sighted in Quebec in late 2024, itself representing perhaps only the second record of the nominate subspecies ever recorded in North America. Most curiously, this pending first New York record happened to surface at the exact same spot where the state’s first Tundra Bean-Goose was seen back in 2021. While the appropriate phylogenetic treatment of these birds is still up for debate, there was no denying the significance of this particular record. I felt myself taken by the sudden, persistent urge for a wild goose chase.
I coordinated my plans for a trip to the Capital Region with Brendan and Brent, resolving to depart from the City in the wee hours of Saturday morning. We encountered a bit more snow than we originally expected, both in terms of duration and intensity, but we still made excellent time with Brendan’s steady hand at the helm. When we arrived at the roost site along the Hudson River where the goose had last been seen, however, it was nowhere to be found. As subflocks of Canada Geese gradually dispersed from the scene, so to did the assembled birders, fanning out to check the surrounding agricultural plots and patches of unfrozen water for congregations of waterfowl. The search effort was coordinated via Discord, with all chasers chipping in to help track down our hoped-for quarry. After several hours of fruitless scanning, an alert came through that the bean-goose had finally been refound. Dozens of cars converged on the impromptu stakeout site in Bacon Hill, where the wayward bird was lazily grazing alongside its carrier flock in a fallow farm field. Surrounded by a multitude of familiar faces, with a light fall of snowflakes dancing around us, we reveled in the convivial atmosphere of a successful twitch! In addition to my first proper lifer of 2025, noteworthy prizes from our expedition included Snow Bunting, Wild Turkey and Pileated Woodpecker. Perhaps one of the most fascinating birds of the day was a bizarrely adorable hybrid Ross’s x Cackling Goose, not “countable” in the traditional sense but nevertheless an exciting and unique taxon that I had never encountered before. All in all, I was grateful for the excuse to spend some time gallivanting around upstate in search of a rare bird, especially given that I was fortunate enough to share the experience with good friends!
The morning of January 12th saw me up and at it bright and early once again, seeking to secure my 100th species for the 2025 year list. I achieved my goal within a few minutes of my arrival at Jones Beach, marking the milestone with a small group of Lapland Longspurs winging their way over the dunes. I spent the rest of the morning patrolling the South Shore of Long Island, racking up additional year birds like Winter Wren, Greater Yellowlegs, and Eastern Screech-Owl. A brief observation of a curious Harbor Seal was a pleasant treat, and I was especially delighted to spend some quality time with a confiding Snowy Owl roosting along the beachfront. After several consecutive winters with notably poor showings by these majestic Arctic raptors, I was swiftly approaching the 2 year anniversary of my last encounter with one of my lifelong favorite animals. Fortunately, this season has at long last delivered a sizable irruptive influx, with reports flooding in from traditional haunts and unexpected stopover sites all across the Northeast. I was able to save my decade-plus streak for annual Snowy sightings just before the final curtain call of 2024 thanks to a timely tip from my pal Taylor, and it was a welcome relief to cross paths with this magnificent species again so early in 2025!Â
The back half of January has been fairly quiet on the birding front, with new year list pickups limited to stray odds and ends encountered incidentally, like a Gray Catbird scrounging for scraps in Bryant Park and a Brown Creeper observed on the ski slopes at Stratton Mountain. There may yet be a few more surprises to be found before the month is through, but I would argue that the kickoff of 2025 has already exceeded expectations as far as birding is concerned. There is no way of knowing what exactly the rest of the year has in store, and the next 11 months will undoubtedly feature their own mixed bag of sorrows and successes, just as every preceding year has. Whatever comes next, I can assure you that I will be birding all the way, scanning the skies and sharing stories with loved ones. Cheers to a new year, dear reader! May your 2025 be filled with positive growth, victorious achievements, and unforgettable memories!