The crisp autumn air doesn’t deter Jim Wilson as he stands at Point Lepreau, binoculars raised to the sky. As coordinator of the Saint John Naturalists’ Club bird count, he’s been watching this same stretch of New Brunswick coastline for three decades.
“When we started in 1994, we had just four volunteers and counted maybe a few thousand birds,” Wilson recalls, adjusting his well-worn cap against the coastal breeze. “Last fall, our team of twenty-two spotted over 120,000 birds in a single season. That’s a heck of a lot of birds.”
The Saint John Naturalists’ Club is celebrating its 30th anniversary of systematic bird counting this year, making it one of the longest-running citizen science projects in Atlantic Canada. What began as a casual hobby has transformed into a crucial database tracking migration patterns, population changes, and the effects of climate change on local bird species.
On a typical counting day, volunteers position themselves at strategic points along the Bay of Fundy coastline. Armed with spotting scopes, notepads, and endless patience, they count everything from common eiders to rare gyrfalcons. The counting season runs from mid-August through November, capturing the peak of fall migration.
“Birds tell us so much about our environment,” explains Jane Richardson, a retired biology teacher who joined the count in its second year. “They’re like flying barometers for ecosystem health.”
The data collected by these dedicated birders hasn’t just gathered dust. Their records have contributed to provincial wildlife management plans, environmental impact assessments, and academic research at the University of New Brunswick. After three decades, patterns emerge that might otherwise remain invisible.
“We’ve documented the dramatic recovery of bald eagles,” notes Wilson. “In our first year, seeing an eagle was cause for celebration. Last year we counted 86 in a single day. It’s one of our great conservation success stories.”
Not all trends are positive, however. The group’s meticulous records show steep declines in several shorebird species, including the semipalmated sandpiper. These small, unassuming birds migrate from Arctic breeding grounds to South America, stopping to refuel in the Bay of Fundy.
“Thirty years ago, we’d see clouds of sandpipers – tens of thousands in a single flock,” says Wilson. “Those numbers have dropped by roughly forty percent. That’s concerning.”
Provincial wildlife biologist Sabine Dietz values the club’s contributions. “What makes their data so powerful is the consistency,” she explains. “When you have the same locations monitored the same way for three decades, you can separate random fluctuations from real trends. You can’t put a price on that kind of information.”
The count has also documented the arrival of new species to New Brunswick. Great egrets, glossy ibis, and sandhill cranes – birds traditionally found further south – are increasingly common sightings. According to Environment Canada’s climate projection models, this northward expansion of ranges is consistent with warming temperatures.
The counting method itself is remarkably straightforward. Volunteers work in two-hour shifts, documenting every bird that flies past their station. Species, numbers, direction of travel – all are meticulously recorded. At day’s end, the team compiles their totals, careful to avoid double-counting.
But the technical simplicity belies the challenge. “Try identifying a duck flying a kilometer offshore in fading light,” laughs Carol Gillis, who joined the count five years ago. “It takes practice and a certain kind of patience.”
The group welcomes newcomers of all experience levels. Peter McKenna, a retired postal worker, knew almost nothing about birds when he first volunteered in 2018.
“I couldn’t tell a cormorant from a crow,” he admits. “Now I can identify most local species by their silhouettes alone. The experienced birders here are incredible teachers.”
Beyond the science, there’s undeniable camaraderie. The count has fostered friendships spanning generations and backgrounds. Local businesses support the effort too – a nearby coffee shop regularly delivers hot drinks to counters during cold mornings.
The Naturalists’ Club has modernized over time. Their findings, once recorded exclusively in handwritten journals, now populate digital databases accessible to researchers worldwide. They’ve embraced eBird, a Cornell University platform that aggregates bird sightings globally.
Despite technological advances, the essence remains unchanged – people watching birds, counting carefully, and contributing to our understanding of the natural world.
As the club celebrates its 30th anniversary, they’re planning special events throughout the year, including public bird watching walks and a retrospective exhibition at the New Brunswick Museum featuring photographs and data visualizations from three decades of counts.
“People sometimes ask why we do this year after year,” Wilson reflects, packing up his spotting scope as evening approaches. “I tell them it’s like reading a chapter in an endless story. The birds are telling us something important. We just need to keep showing up to hear it.”
For those interested in joining the count, the Saint John Naturalists’ Club welcomes volunteers regardless of experience. As Wilson puts it, “The only requirement is curiosity. The birds will teach you the rest.”
