Contests! We got yer contests here!

Through the magazine and on this blog, you have multiple chances to win prizes from WildBird and our partners. Take note of the upcoming deadlines -- some occur this week! -- and get in on the fun.

First Friday fiction contest
Deadline: Thursday, May 6 - tomorrow!

The birding community encompasses incredibly talented individuals who play with words well when not enjoying birds. This monthly fiction-writing contest gives those wordsmiths a chance to apply their skills to 500-word tales about birds, birders or birding.

Other criteria:
* The tale includes four elements: a setting, a character or characters, a conflict and a resolution.
* It does not anthropomorphize birds.
* You send your wordsmithery to wildbirdATbowtieinc.com before 5 p.m. PST on the first Thursday of the month, and you include your mailing address.

Why do we need your mailing address? The winner gets to choose a prize from recently published books on WildBird's shelves. For instance, the prizes for the May contest include "A Photographic Guide to the Birds of Jamaica," "Peterson Field Guide to Birds of Eastern and Central North America," "Peterson Field Guide to Birds of Western North America" and "Bald Coot and Screaming Loon: Adventures in the Curious, Mysterious and Remarkable World of Birds."

You'll find examples of previous winners' stories in the blog's right-hand column.


Forum Focus/Lister's Forum
Deadline: Friday, May 7
Backyard Inquiry/Birder's Back Yard
Deadline: Friday, May 7

In every issue, readers will find questions in the Lister's Forum and Birder's Back Yard departments. Chosen responses -- which demonstrate actions that benefit birds and/or birders -- will appear in a future issue, and one of the responses will garner the Backyard Birder or Forum Birder title as well as prizes such as books from Houghton Mifflin Harcourt and a gift pack of Swarovski Optik items.

In the November/December issue, the Backyard Birders and Forum Birders appear with the Birder of the Year ballot, and all readers can vote for the most deserving candidate. The winner will appear in the March/April issue and receive a Swarovski binocular, such as the EL 8x32, and a guided trip to a birding hotspot. The 2008 winner, Connie Kogler, described her June 2009 trip to Costa Rica.


22nd Annual Photo Contest
Postmark deadline: Friday, May 14

Every year in the March/April and May/June issues, WildBird publishes the entry form and rules for the annual photo competition. Thanks to generous participation from sponsors, we can offer first-, second- and third-place prizes to the winners in five categories -- amateur, backyard, digiscoping, flight and shorebirds -- as well as a grand prize: a Canon EOS 50D.

Participants can enter two entries per category, and the postmark deadline is May 14 -- so you can take the envelopes to the post office next Friday and remain eligible for judging.

The judges continually feel stumped when faced with the incredible quality of the finalists' images. They look for tack-sharp focus, particularly at the bird's beak and eyes; action; composition; and lighting. (I cannot stress enough the importance of focus; no blurry photos please! -- Ed.) The winning images will appear in the September/October issue.

Now, with all those chances to see your name in print and receive a prize, what are you waiting for? The first deadline is tomorrow!

First Friday: April 2

Kudos to Clare Kines of The House and other Arctic musings! He won this month's First Friday fiction contest. Now he gets to choose a prize from these books: "Bird" by Andrew Zuckerman, "Birds of Borneo" by Susan Myers, "Owl" by Desmond Morris and "Altar of Eden" by James Rollins.

You have the chance to win a recently published birding book if you enter the May contest! Mark May 6 on your calendar as the deadline for your fictional story about birds, birders or birding.

Other criteria:
* The story contains no more than 500 words.
* It includes four elements: a setting, a character or characters, a conflict and a resolution.
* The story does not anthropomorphize birds.
* You send your wordsmithery to wildbirdATbowtieinc.com before 5 p.m. PST on the first Thursday of the month, and you include your mailing address.

Now, I present April's First Friday winner: "A Large Bill."

Reid Struthers quietly blew out the dust caked in his nose -- quietly. He was in trouble and knew it. He couldnʼt risk discovery. This cold dusty corner of the earth wasnʼt yet Taliban country, but there were enough of them here. The hills might not have eyes, but the Talibanʼs were looking for him. It was a mess, and he knew it.

Struthers was an elite soldier, part of Canadaʼs least-known and secretive units that gets the toughest, dangerous jobs. As he shifted in his small hole in the
ground, keeping from the creeping sunlight, he felt anything but elite.

His squad had been sent to Afghanistanʼs remote Wakhan Corridor to head off an attempt of the Taliban to establish themselves -- and a trade route for opium into China. It was a stunningly beautiful, and until recently largely ignored, area. As it opened up, it became his job to put it back that way.


View Larger Map

Earlier, following up on a report of a group of Taliban fighters on patrol, he had sped to catch up to the others on his ATV, roaring past them in the dark. The rocket-propelled grenade that whizzed by just overhead was the first sign that he was in trouble. He didnʼt have time to contemplate it as the bullets followed right behind, reaching out for him. Turning hard, he fought to control his ATV as it rolled onto two wheels. Skidding and bouncing, he finally brought it back to earth, just in time to slam into a boulder and careen off the edge of the plateau.

He could hear the ATV sliding down the same slope he was now bouncing down, finally gaining his footing as the small arms fire renewed and bullets reached out for him. So he ran, ran down the slope trying to gain distance, and stay upright. It was barely controlled falling.

He moved all night, voices and shots faded gradually farther behind him. When the horizon began to glow, he went to ground in this hole. Calling it a cave would be far too generous. As the sun rose, so did the voices of a bird, calling from the scrub along a river.

All around he could hear the song. Finally, calling from a branch a little in front of his hole, was a small olive bird with a beak too large for its delicate size. It reminded him of reed-warblers he saw in Britain -- but with a different song and a much larger beak. Damned Old World warblers all looked alike to him. If he had clue to what it was, he could add it to his life list.


One of the birds left the scrub and flew down to his hiding place and cocked its head as it checked him out. He was so excited that he almost missed the sound of his squadʼs ATVʼs as they searched for him. The lost had been found -- and the worldʼs least-known bird went back to its singing.

See this news article about Large-Billed Reed-Warblers for the basis of Clare's tale.

First Friday: March 5

Congratulations to Seabrooke Leckie of The Marvelous in Nature! She won this month's First Friday fiction contest, making her a two-time winner. Now she gets to choose a prize from these books: "Bird" by Andrew Zuckerman, "The Season of the Robin" by Don Grussing, "Waterbirds" by Theodore Cross and "Bright Wings" by Billy Collins and David Allen Sibley.

You have the chance to win a recently published birding book if you enter the April contest! Mark April 1 (no joke!) on your calendar as the deadline for your fictional story about birds, birders or birding.

Other criteria:
* The story contains no more than 500 words.
* It includes four elements: a setting, a character or characters, a conflict and a resolution.
* The story does not anthropomorphize birds.
* You send your wordsmithery to wildbirdATbowtieinc.com before 5 p.m. PST on the first Thursday of the month, and you include your mailing address.


Now, the winning entry in March's First Friday: "Distraction."

Ben sat at his desk in his cubicle, one hand on his mouse, the other propping up his chin as he looked wistfully out the windows on the other side of the aisle. They looked out over the parking lot to undeveloped shrubby land beyond. In the distance was the broad blue ribbon of the river. He liked to look toward it, imagining that he was walking the riverside trail with his binocular around his neck.

It was one of those beautiful June days, where the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the temperature was neither too hot nor too cold. He didn't mind his desk job during the winter months, and in the heat of mid-summer, he appreciated being in the air-conditioned environment, but on perfect days like this, he sometimes wished he worked outdoors. He found it hard to focus on what he was doing and his productivity dropped right off on nice days.

He was staring out the window when Janet, a coworker who sat on the other side of the cubicle wall from him, returned from her lunch break. She dropped her stuff on her desk and immediately peered over the top of the wall. She looked distraught.

"Ben, I think I hit a bird!" she wailed.

"Where? On the road? Well, they do tend to fly across at the last minute, it's not always possible to-"

"No! Here in the parking lot. I got out of my car, and there was this bird flopping around on the ground. I didn't know what to do! Do you think you could come look at it?"

She didn't have to ask Ben twice -- any excuse to get outside. He knew of a rehabber ten minutes away they could take the bird to if needed.

He followed Janet out to the parking lot. There was a conference today, and the lot was unusually full. She'd had to park at the far side, where the paved lot gave way to a band of gravel and melted in to the shrubby field beyond. There was a small bush right by her car, and he wondered if maybe a kingbird had been flycatching.

They were half a dozen meters from the car when there was a sudden explosion of movement from the gravel edging. A brown-and-white bird, about the size of a robin, dashed onto the pavement in front of them and started flopping around wildly, looking indeed like its wing was broken.

"Is that the bird?" Ben had trouble suppressing a laugh.

"Yes! That's it! Can you help?"

"Perhaps..."

He walked to the gravel and took a quick look around. Sure enough, perfectly camouflaged among the stones were four speckled eggs.


"One of those 'Wet Floor' tripods and a laminated sign ought to do the trick," he said to a confused Janet.

He pointed out the eggs and, on the way back to the building, told her all about Killdeer.

Photo courtesy of ShawnOlson.net

First Friday fiction contest: March 4 deadline

Words and birds go together, which the vast collection of birding books -- not field guides but other genres -- confirms. Not too long ago, the majority of birding books fit into the nonfiction category, but that began to change recently. We can see birders and birds more often in fiction, such as mysteries and drama.

WildBird knows that the birding community includes many talented writers, and we hope that they'll share their talent for wordsmithery in the First Friday fiction contest. Here are the contest details:

* You submit a 500-word fictional story about birds, birders or birding.
* The story includes four elements: a setting, a character or characters, a conflict and a resolution.
* The story does not anthropomorphize birds.
* You send your tale to wildbirdATbowtieinc.com before 5 p.m. PST on the first Thursday of the month, and you include your mailing address.

The author of the winning entry gets to receive a recently published book, such as Andrew Zuckerman's "Bird" or Don Grussing's "The Seasons of the Robin."

You'll find the previous winners' tales in the sidebar to the right. Will you join the contest this week and earn a spot in the sidebar?

First Friday: Feb. 5

Congratulations to Amy Evenstad of Round Lake Beach, Ill.! She won this month's First Friday fiction contest and now gets to choose a prize from these three books: "Bird" by Andrew Zuckerman, "National Geographic Illustrated Birds of North America, Folio Edition" and "Waterbirds" by Theodore Cross.

You have the chance to win a recently published birding book if you enter the March contest! Mark March 4 as the deadline for your fictional story about birds, birders or birding.

Other criteria:
* The story includes four elements: a setting, a character or characters, a conflict and a resolution.
* The story does not anthropomorphize birds.
* You send your wordsmithery to wildbirdATbowtieinc.com before 5 p.m. PST on the first Thursday of the month, and you include your mailing address.

Now, the winning entry in February's First Friday: "Sweets Above and Below."

I tell the cashier to keep the change as I pick up my order. Like most of the stuff on the menu at Dina's Inn, the coffee isn't particularly good, but Steve and I both need caffeine to get through the last two hours of our shift. Hotel California is playing in the background as I walk out the door, and I hum the chorus on my way back to the car.

Most of the cops in my precinct hate a daylight stakeout. Daytime stakeouts are boring, because the targets are usually sleeping. Me, I love an afternoon out in the car, especially in the spring. The perps aren't usually active, but the birds sure are. On our last stakeout, I got two new warblers and one clean arrest - and Steve doesn't mind if I make all of the caffeine runs, even if it takes me twice as long as it should. A rookie - especially one that likes to look at birds - couldn't ask for a better partner.

Our unmarked Fury is parked two streets from the river, on Locust Street. I've tallied a few new year birds on the walk, including a Chestnut-sided Warbler in the park across from Dina's, but as I approach the car, my focus returns to the job. From about 30 yards out, I can see the driver's seat is empty. Aw, nuts. Where's Steve?!

I scan the street between the car and the house we've been watching. There's no movement. I see nothing suspicious. The street looks as it did when I left Steve about 15 minutes ago. So where is he? A robin sings from a treetop behind me, but I don't notice it in my growing panic.

I put the coffee cups down on the sidewalk and consider my next move. Suddenly I see a dark shadow pass on the sidewalk in front of me. I nearly shout out in surprise when I look up to see a huge dark bird with a light head soaring over the neighborhood. Although I've never seen one in the wild before, I instantly recognize the adult Bald Eagle. I can't believe my eyes. Last I heard there were only about 800 breeding pairs of these birds left in the whole United States. I forget about Steve and the job for just a moment as I watch the eagle gently turn back towards the river. When it's out of sight, I realize I've been holding my breath.

Totally exhilarated from the sighting, I look back down to the Fury and see Steve sitting on the driver's side. Puzzled, I pick up our coffees and jog to the car. Steve is cursing under his breath. I see doughnuts, chocolate sprinkles and powdered sugar spilled all over the floor. Steve never left the car; he had just been bent down, trying to clean up the spilled sweets. I sigh with relief and help him with the mess so we can return to watching the house. I tell him about my Bald Eagle moment over cold coffee and brushed-off doughnuts.

Bald Eagle courtesy of WFAE.org

First Friday contest deadline: today!

Do you have a knack for writing short fictional tales? Do you want to win one of the three books below? Then put your fingers on the keyboard, and craft a 500-word piece about birds, birders or birding. Send it to wildbirdATbowtieinc.com by 5 p.m. PST today.

Here are the other criteria:
* The story includes four elements: a setting, a character or characters, a conflict and a resolution.
* The story does not anthropomorphize birds.
* You include your full mailing address.

The winner of the February First Friday can choose one of these books.





Will you win the chance to receive one of those tomes? Send your story a few seconds before 5:00 PST today!

Third Friday: Jan. 15

Congratulations to Seabrooke Leckie of The Marvelous in Nature! She earned top honors in the one and only Third Friday fiction contest.

By crafting an intriguing 500-word tale, Seabrooke earned the chance to receive a recently published birding book of her choice. No doubt the book will provide good reading fodder.

Please participate in the February contest! Mark Feb. 4 as the deadline for your fictional story about birds, birders or birding.

Other criteria:
* The story includes four elements: a setting, a character or characters, a conflict and a resolution.
* The story does not anthropomorphize birds.
* You send your wordsmithery to wildbirdATbowtieinc.com before 5 p.m. PST on the first Thursday of the month, and you include your mailing address.

Here, then, is Seabrooke's story:

It was late in the afternoon, the sun already grazing the tops of the trees on the western horizon, its low rays giving the small hummocks of snow a rosy blush while casting blue shadows behind them. It had been a long day of hiking, and Steve was ready to put his feet up over a warm dinner and hot mug of hot chocolate. They had been lucky today with the weather; he had participated in some Christmas Bird Counts in the past where it was minus twenty with blustery snow.

He unlocked his car, setting his notebook and binoculars on the seat as he unwrapped his scarf. He was satisfied with the day. They’d got some good birds along the way, including a handful of crossbills, and a yellowthroat found skulking around in the shrubs of a small marsh, a record late for their county. They had recorded 49 species, which tied his personal high in the 14 years he’d been doing the counts.

He patted down his pockets, looking for his keys. Something was missing. He paused, realization dawning that his GPS was missing. Oh, man. It had been a gift from his wife; he’d been so excited to try it out today. He’d had it when he arrived here; he’d marked the location of a Hermit Thrush with it. He looked back toward the woods with a sigh. Nothing for it but to retrace his steps, he supposed. That would make him late for the count dinner and compilation, but folks would understand.

He bundled up his scarf again and collected his binoculars, then trudged back out along the trail he’d returned by. He watched the ground carefully, looking for anything foreign-looking, or pockets of snow that might suggest something had fallen. He vaguely recalled having pulled out a granola bar at one point. Perhaps he’d dropped it then.

He’d walked back nearly twenty minutes along his trail before he finally spotted it, lying half-buried in the snow where the boot prints suggested he’d paused to look at something. He reached down and picked it up, brushing the snow from the device with a glove. It seemed okay. It was supposed to be waterproof, anyhow.

He looked up as he tucked it in his pocket, and with a shock found himself staring into two very deep, black eyes. The eyes belonged to a fat Barred Owl, which regarded him curiously, sleepily. It was roosting unusually low, but seemed healthy. Steve dared not move, and barely breathed as he looked at the owl and it regarded him. Finally, reluctantly, he tore himself away; the sun was nearly set, and he had a dinner to attend.

He glanced over his shoulder as he left. The owl was watching him go.

“Hoo-hoo hoo hoo-aah,” Steve hooted at the bird.

The bird puffed out its throat feathers. “Hoo-hoo hoo-hoo!” It responded.

Steve smiled, then turned to head back to the car. Number 50, the record-breaker. And what a memorable one!

Photo courtesy of Gerald Botkin/50birds.com

First Friday deadline: Today!

In November, we revived the First Friday birding fiction contest and enjoyed the wordsmithery of Clare Kines. A repeat winner, Clare sets high standards. You can read his November entry here.

For the January contest, we're going to fudge the timing a wee bit. The first Friday was Jan. 1, a holiday! The second Friday entails a business trip that will keep me on my toes in Atlanta, Ga., so the third Friday -- Jan. 15 -- will bring a well-crafted story for your enjoyment.

Will you join the fun today? Here are the parameters:
* The story contains 500 words. That's all: 500.
* It deals with birds, birders and/or birding.
* It includes four elements: a setting, a character or characters, a conflict and a resolution.
* It does not anthropomorphize birds.
* You send your wordsmithery to wildbirdATbowtieinc.com before 5 p.m. PST on Thursday, and you include your mailing address.

Some birders think they lack the imagination or writing chops to create a good story. I think otherwise!

Many writers use a real-life incident as the spark for a tale. Maybe while you participated in a Christmas Bird Count, you experienced a sight, sound, smell, touch or taste that's perfect for a 500-word imaginary incident about birds, birders or birding.

Please do join the fun!

First Friday deadline today!

Click here for details about the fiction contest about birds, birders and birding... and the potential prizes.

First Friday deadline: Aug. 1

Got a knack for wordsmithery? Put your writing skills to work, and earn two recently published books! If your tale wins the First Friday contest, then you get your pick of reading material from the WildBird bookshelves. Will it sweeten the pot if I also offer a Swarovski binocular harness?

The contest details:
* 500-word limit
* fictional story with four elements: a setting, a character or characters, a conflict and a resolution
* deals with birds, birders and/or birding
* no anthropomorphism of birds

Send your tale to me on Wednesday, Aug. 1, in an e-mail or as a Word attachment. Include your mailing address.

With two or more entries, we'll have a contest, and the winner will appear on Aug. 3. Looking forward to receiving your story!

First Friday deadline: May 2

Want to win two recently published books by writing a 500-word short story? Participate in First Friday!

Look in the right-hand column of this page to see previous winners and the prizes selected by the writers. I hope to see your fictional story about birds in my e-mail inbox before or on May 2.

First Friday: April 6

Congratulations to Tai Haku of Earth, Wind & Water for his winning entry in this month's edition of the birding fiction contest! He now has his choice of recently published books, such as the paperback version of Donald Kroodsma's The Singing Life of Birds (with a CD).

If you want to earn that chance, then write an original 500-word short story about birds, birding or birders that includes a setting, a character or characters, a conflict and a resolution. Also, the birds cannot be anthropomorphized.

Thank you to this month's authors! I can't wait to hear from you again and to receive entries from new writers, too. Please submit stories for the May edition by May 2.

Without further blather: "Navigator" by Tai Haku


It had taken a long time while sitting in the raft, but Jacob had come to hate the birds. At first he was grateful of their company. He knew others had gotten off the boat before it went down; he’d seen people in other inflatable life rafts in the distance. Somehow he’d wound up alone in a raft, and the others had become farther and farther spread until he could no longer make them out.

He was left alone on the sea with the birds. He’d spent the first few days watching them as he hoped for a quick rescue, distracting himself from his darker thoughts as he watched the giant albatrosses and skuas glide effortlessly past him.

He particularly enjoyed watching the smaller birds. They looked so fragile as they skimmed the waves or hovered, paddling at the water with their feet. Jacob reasoned that if something so tiny and fragile could survive out here, then so could he.

Jacob’s love of watching the birds diminished with his hopes of rescue as the first week ended. Suddenly their ease in the open ocean didn’t seem a comfort to him anymore but a mockery.

Shearwaters sat behind the boat, frustrating his attempts to catch fish. Every albatross wheeling down to investigate him before dropping a wing and speeding away seemed to highlight his inability to guide himself to safety.

Jacob was helpless while the birds were powerful, and he began to hate them for it. Jacob tried to ignore the birds as best he could and even made fitful and feeble attempts to down the more bold ones by swinging his paddle at them.

Seventeen days in, fitfully moving in and out of consciousness, Jacob became aware of movement at the far end of the raft. Another bird had landed. He resolved to try with the paddle one more time.

Summoning all his strength, he lunged, bringing the paddle down flat on the rubber edge of the raft. The bird moved effortlessly but didn’t fly off. It had simply flitted a few feet down the edge of the raft.

Jacob stared at it, blinking. It was different from the other birds. It was a little bigger than the very smallest birds he’d seen but, unlike them, didn’t share that white and black patterning they seemed to favour. This bird was brown, with yellow streaks and darker coloured dots. It looked more like something he’d see on a bird table than the ocean.

Suddenly realisation came: It didn’t belong here. It was like him; it belonged on the land. Jacob turned, frantically scanning the horizon. Eventually he saw it -- a small ribbon of darkness above the ocean to the south.

Jacob looked back at the bird, and the bird looked at Jacob. It cocked its head to one side and took off, flying south straight over Jacob’s head toward the ribbon of land… with Jacob’s raft clumsily, achingly slowly but undeniably following it home.

First Friday fiction due tomorrow!

Have you read a good short story about birds, birders or birding lately? Better yet, have you written one?

Consider participating in First Friday, a monthly contest that solicits 500-word pieces of fiction. The winner receives the choice of two recently published books from the WildBird office, like Silence of the Songbirds by Bridget Stutchbury or National Geographic Birder's Journal.

The next deadline is Wednesday, April 4. The winning entry will appear here on Friday the 6th.

Woo hoo! Another First Friday entry

A second entry appeared in the inbox this weekend. I'm hoping to receive even more before the April 4 deadline.

This community includes great writers. It'd be a pleasure to see them turn their talents to fiction.

I'd like to hear tips about making First Friday more appealing. As the host, what would you do? Thanks in advance.

First Friday fiction due on April 4!

Have you read a good short story about birds, birders or birding lately? Better yet, have you written one?

Consider participating in First Friday, a monthly contest that solicits 500-word pieces of fiction. The winner receives the choice of two recently published books from the WildBird office, like Silence of the Songbirds by Bridget Stutchbury or National Geographic Birder's Journal.

The next deadline is Wednesday, April 4.

Send short stories for First Friday!

Are you polishing your 500-word fictional piece about birds, birders or birding? I look forward to receiving your creative entries for the March edition of First Friday.

The winner receives the choice of two recently published books from the WildBird office. The deadline is 5 p.m. PST today.

First Friday fiction due on Feb. 28

Have you read a good short story about birds, birders or birding lately? Better yet, have you written one?

Consider participating in First Friday, a monthly contest that solicits 500-word pieces of fiction. The winner receives the choice of two recently published books from the WildBird office. The next deadline is Wednesday, Feb. 28.

Reminder: First Friday stories on Feb. 28

Have you read a good short story about birds, birders or birding lately? Better yet, have you written one?

Consider participating in First Friday, a monthly contest that solicits 500-word pieces of fiction. The winner receives the choice of two recently published books from the WildBird office. The next deadline is Wednesday, Feb. 28.