Ode on the American Bittern

Or: The Trials, Tribulations, and Triumphs of Finding a Secretive Ardeidae

Here at Birding with BillBow we’re always looking for ways to innovate, and lately the question has been how to extend a more personal thanks to those of you who have taken the very generous step of opening your wallet with a paid subscription.

What can I offer, outside of my usual content, that can be tailored to each subscriber? Then it struck me like a bittern’s bill to my skull that I work in words, and words are what I should offer.

But not just any words—words that have rhythm and rhyme. And so I hereby announce that henceforth paid subscribers will receive a poem written about the bird of their choice. How does it work? Upon securing a paid subscription, I’ll contact you about what bird you’d like to see in verse. The poem won’t replace my regular Thursday post, but will be published separately for all to enjoy.

Today I dedicate this poem, Ode on the American Bittern, to my fellow Substacker and most recent paid subscriber

The Jaunty Gallivanter

. When I asked the JG what bird to feature, I was not prepared for the answer—how about the American Bittern, one of my nemesis birds? You can write about what an absolute asshole it is.

Boy did that unleash some memories, not all of them pleasant. The American Bittern and I have a history dating back the spring of 2022, when I spent the better part of two weeks trying to track one down at Corey Marsh Ecological Research Center, one of my birding patches in central Michigan.

Let what follows serve as a cautionary tale, and one of hope!

Ode on the American Bittern

Come dear Gallivanter
Let me you regale
With the tale of bird
And a birder’s travail!

The bird was a Bittern
The American kind
You know the story
They’re hard to find!

The way that they skulk
And hide in the grass
Is one of nature’s
Great pains in the ass

For when they hold still
In the midst of a bog
They vanish like phantoms
Ghosts in the fog

Sneaky and quiet
A camouflage master
Seeking one out
Can lead to disaster

Heartbreaking failure
Ending in tears
Curable only
With seventeen beers

If you’re lucky you’ll hear one
It makes a weird sound!
Somewhat like a kickball
Bounced off the ground

Or perhaps in the off chance
You get your wish
You’ll see one in motion
Lancing a fish

More likely however
Is a trip made for naught
You still won’t have found one
When your corpse starts to rot

I well remember
The first time I chased one
In a Michigan marsh
I was nigh undone

The first try was fruitless
So too the second and third
By the eighth I was thinking
This is absurd!

Still I came back
Day after day
Afraid that my sanity
Was wasting away

I sat like an asshole
Watching and waiting
Others had seen it
Why was it me hating?

And soon enough
I was hating it too
I was seething and sulking
And began to unglue

Unhinge, unravel
Fall into madness
Condemned to suffer
In perpetual sadness

Until on day twelve
When it gave me one snort
From deep in the cattails
To which I did retort

One grunt for my trouble
You streaky bastard?
One vocalization?
Insuff’rable dastard!

I shook my fist
Bade adieu to the fen
And headed on home
Feeling not very zen

Then one year later
In a Pittsburgh park
A Bittern was found
So I did embark

On a fool’s errand
A wild goose chase
I laughed as I drove
Lunacy in my face

I hiked down to the pond
Where the Bittern was seen
So sure I’d miss it
I thought I’d bet my spleen

Losing my spleen
Would be bad but not fatal
But I like mine! I’ve had it
Since I was prenatal

But wait now. Hold on
What’s this? Could it be?
The Bittern was right there
Side-eyeing me

Out there in the open
An impossible fluke
I stood there so happy
Glad enough to puke!

But puke I did not
Though I could not believe it
A Bittern in plain sight
Like a heron or egret

Those are its cousins
In the taxonomy
The order of species
In the bird family tree

I’m aware that my luck
Was keener than keen
And throw into the bargain
That I kept my spleen

I know what you’re thinking
This could be me!
I too could win
The Bittern lottery!

But beware, Gallivanter
Of the stripey brown brat
You still want to find one?
Good luck with that!

Take heed what I tell you
Try to stay Jaunty
Not like a character
From Emily Brontë

For American Bittern
Can do that to you
Leave you shattered and broken
And afflicted with rue.

Still I have hope
You’ll get your Bittern
Keep up the faith!
I know you’re no quittern

Featured Photo—American Bittern

This American Bittern spent many days at Panther Hollow in Pittsburgh’s Schenley Park and could often be seen right out in the open, away from the safe haven of protective grasses. Bitterns are much more elusive than other members of the heron family, but they feed similarly by quietly stalking their prey (anything from fish to crustaceans, eels, insects, and small mammals) and then attacking with a quick strike. I did not see this Bittern feeding. In fact it barely moved both times I went to see it.

10/10 Recommends

The Jaunty Gallivanter

I love the JG’s writing. Jaunty is the right word. Her prose style is fun and colourful (if somewhat excessive in the use of the letter u, as per the wont of our northerly neighbours), and always enraptured when it comes to nature. Throw in some stellar photos and you have a Substack worth subscribing to and looking forward to seeing in your inbox. Who knows, someday you might even read the tale of how she conquered her nemesis bird.

That’s all for this week. Have you seen an American Bittern before? Have you experienced a horror akin to what I went through at Corey Marsh in Michigan? What birds have tormented you in your quest to see one?

Until next time, thanks for reading, and don’t forget to gallivant your ass off!

nwb

Would you like a poem dedicated to you? Consider upgrading to a paid subscription. As always, 5% of earnings donated to the American Birding Association.

Not up for a subscription? Help me replace my poor, deceased Stetson, who died in service of protecting my balding head from the sun in Costa Rica. To date, you’ve helped raise $20 out of the $125 needed for a new Stetson Bozeman. Great start!

Paid or not, thank you for reading! I’m so glad you’re here!

This post was human-generated. All photos by Nathaniel Bowler.