THE BUSINESS OF BANDING
Rex Burress
The word “band” is usually connected with a musical performance, or a group of people banding together to achieve a goal, or a bunch of tree-lovers banded together to try and save a group of cherished trees (Save Oroville's Trees!).
A first-thought might also be of a wedding band/ring worn on a finger. Or a band could be a band saw, or a band of electrical wavelengths, but unless you are familiar with bird terms, you will be hard-pressed to find any reference in the dictionary about bird banding.
Having been a part of a bird banding program at the oldest bird refuge in Western America—Lake Merritt Wildlife Refuge in Oakland, California-- I learned what bird banding was all about. When I started working at the refuge and the Natural Science Center in 1961, banding migratory waterfowl there had been in progress since 1926, and it was the first official banding station on the west coast.
Since the migrants were only present in the winter, a daily check of a deep-water trap was necessary, something like a trapline for furbearers, so that the animals wouldn't linger in confinement. In all kinds of weather, I put on chest waders and paddled the rowboat out to the chain-link fence enclosure where a couple dozen trapped ducks had to be caught with a fish net, banded, and released.
The band was made of sturdy aluminum, with a number and directions embossed into the metal. A pair of banding pliers were used to clamp the bracelet onto the duck's leg, and the number recorded. If found, the finder was to send the band to U.S. Fish and Wildlife, Washington D.C., and would receive data about where the duck was banded and when, thus determining the extent of its travels and age. One pintail duck, banded at Lake Merritt, was found 20 years later in Siberia. Wildlife knows no political boundary, and foreign countries are usually sympathetic toward the science of bird life.
Milo grain was the duck bait. Coots would follow the boat to the trap and eat grain that drifted, but they would never enter through the funnel door. Not so alert were the golden eye, canvasback, and scaup diving ducks that were caught in abundance.
There is something marvelous about holding a live duck in your hand, feeling the pulse of life beating under the beautiful feathers, and knowing that the migrant has flown unerringly over vast wilderness tracts, withstanding storms and the perils of predators to reach a refuge destination.
Not only waterfowl are banded, but there is a band-size for all bird species. Not only birds, but other animals are banded, including monarch butterflies, not with metal, rather with a marked adhesive wing label! Migratory journeys are mysterious and this is the way we learn.
In Butte County, Dawn Garcia of Altacal Audubon has been involved in officially banding birds, especially small owls, trapped at night with mist nets strung in the woodland. To take the banding quest into the dark is indeed a challenge, but an important facet of learning more about birds like the Saw-Whet Owl.
After banding, there is the satisfaction in lifting the winged traveler to the wind and seeing it fly away into the realms of the unknown. Some of those banded birds may be found and their band number added to the journals of science, traced by the universal band etching.
Wild animals do not depend on artificial tags for identification, but recognize one another by smell, sound, and sight. Keen senses are more reliable than metal bands, but cooperation is vital in studying life on Earth.
“If it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, we have to consider