Go Birds: 24 hours inside the World Series of Birding

CAPE MAY COUNTY, N.J. — Sleepy college students huddled around their professor in a quiet campground, shuffling their feet and fending off yawns on this cool May night.

It was a few minutes before midnight, and moonlight filtered through the pines in Belleplain State Forest. Elsewhere in New Jersey’s southernmost county, other groups gathered much the same way, by dunes, marshes, and airports. They stretched their calves and tightened the laces on their hiking boots. They yearned for coffee.

James Kellam, an associate professor of biology at St. Vincent College in Latrobe, Pa., monitored the time. There was no ceremony, no bullhorn to kickoff the competition, just the clock.

“OK, ladies and gentlemen, it’s now midnight,” Kellam whispered. “Good luck.”

Kellam led one team of students, called the “SVC Redtails,” down one dark road on this Saturday morning, while a second team from the school, “SVC All Gas, No Beaks,” went down another.

Soon, everyone entered a deeper state of listening, attuning their minds to the rustling treetops and tiny footfalls on the forest floor. They stopped every 20 yards or so and stood, in the silence, scanning the dark woods for birdsong.

“We’re gonna walk around here until we hear an owl,” Kellam told his team.

Along the shore of Lake Nummy in the Belleplain campground, two robust silhouettes appeared, backlit by a distant light across the water. The birds didn’t make a sound, not even their trademark “honk,” but were unmistakable, nevertheless. Team SVC Redtails had identified its first species in the 42nd annual N.J., Audubon World Series of Birding.

“Canada goose it is,” Kellam said.

The New Jersey Audubon Society’s World Series of Birding is one of the nation’s premier bird-watching events, drawing in lifelong hobbyists, ornithologists, professional photographers, precious kids, and newbies who couldn’t tell a warbler from a whip-poor-will by sight or sound.

It all began as a fundraiser at midnight on May 19, 1984, when 13 teams set out to identify as many birds as possible in 24 hours. Earlier this month, 90 teams of approximately 487 birders took part in a slew of different categories.

Most teams converged on Cape May County, a veritable New Jersey Turnpike for migratory birds, while others went out looking statewide. Some teams competed in the “Big Stay” category, confining themselves to a 17-by-17-foot location to ID any birds that passed by.

Wawa played a large role.

“They have doughnuts, coffee, hoagies, you name it,” said David Hedeen of team “Zen Zugunruhe.” “They also have bathrooms, which is key.”

There was no prize for best team name, but most went above and beyond with puns and clever turns of phrase. Among the competitors were the “Raven LunaChicks,” “Talking Buffleheads,” “Egrets, I’ve had a few,” and the “Fight’n Femelschlagers.” (A femelschlag is a small opening in a forest that allows light to get in and create new growth.)

Unlike the real World Series or a Super Bowl, the competition is friendly. Sure, competitors could cheat, like the New England Patriots or Houston Astros, and simply tally birds they didn’t see or hear, to a point, but there’s a strong ethos against that. No one, for instance, could say they saw a condor, not even at the Cape May Zoo.

“It used to be much more of a competition, but that’s changed, for the better,” said Rich Kauffield, chair of the New Jersey Audubon’s board of directors.

It’s so collegial out there that the birders often help other teams.

“There’s a harrier out there in the marsh,” a member of a carbon footprint team yelled out to a college team Saturday afternoon.

Back in the darkness, at Belleplain State Forest, the whip-poor-wills were waking up just after midnight, and not long after, the forest felt full of them. Once the birds wake up, the mind has to focus even harder, like an orchestra conductor, sorting through a symphony of birdsong, trying to pull one new note from the din.

“There’s a lot of chatter, for the night, but that’s definitely an ovenbird,” Kellam said in the darkness.

As the morning wore on, Kellam led his team down remote Cape May County backroads that led toward the bay. They heard rails in the marshes. They’d heard owls while scouting earlier in the week, but none called out this morning.

At Reeds Beach, a small bayfront community, there were seemingly thousands of laughing gulls rising and falling in the wind above the rough surf. Kellam’s team saw cormorants and ducks there. By 9 a.m., the team had amassed 63 bird species.

During a luncheon at the Nature Center of Cape May with Audubon Society employees, board members, and volunteers, Kauffield said the COVID-19 pandemic and the urge to get outside helped birding explode in popularity over the last five years.

“For one, it’s become younger and cooler,” he said. “And there are so many technological advances to help newcomers get out and do it.”

While old-school binoculars are still a must-have, there’s a slew of popular apps that will identify birds by song; Merlin ID was developed by Cornell University. Some birders, like Kellam, still carry the staple "Sibley Guide to Birds."

That explosion in popularity has had its hiccups, everything from racism and accusations of gatekeeping, as more people of color have become hobbyists, to ethical questions about pressuring rare birds by overcrowding them. In 2022, a snowy owl that appeared in Lancaster County caused a rush of birders to converge on a farm. One Pennsylvania-based Facebook group banned photos of the bird to discourage more people from going.

At St. Vincent College, Kellam established a one-credit, pass/fail World Series of Birding Course that culminates with him and students making the six-hour drive to Cape May County every year. Kellam said his students are underdogs. Teams with Cornell University, home to the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, are the heavy hitters in the collegiate division.

“Of course, it’s all for fun,” he said.

Will Toret, 18, was tasked with jotting down all the birds the team saw. He found birding through his first hobby: fly-fishing. Adryanna Crawford, 19, had joined St. Vincent‘s birding club. Rachel Saraceni, 24, a continuing education student, said she’s always loved birds and figured a class would be fun.

“There’s quizzes, but they’re definitely low-stress,” she said.

As the day wore on, Kellam and his team continued to scour the county, but the pace slowed. There are only so many birds. By 4 p.m., they were hovering near 100 birds.

“Whatever we get now is just gravy,” he said.

At night, the tired team dragged themselves over to the Woodbine Airport, hoping to hear some new birds, like the chuck-will‘s-widow, but their World Series ended much like it began:

“More whip-poor-wills,” Kellam said.

The next morning, Kellam and both of his teams gathered with hundreds of others at the Grand Hotel in Cape May, where the Audubon Society handed out awards. Team Zen Zugunruhe won with 165 birds and, in total, 256 species were identified by all contestants.

St. Vincent’s two teams finished with 122 and 111 birds identified.

“As you can see, we did not come close to winning,” Kellam said. “But you also see that’s not the point.”

Children bopped up onto the stage to receive trophies and medals, young enthusiasts who can look for birds for the next half-century or more, particularly when they get a driver’s license.

“We would love to thank our parents, who woke up at 3 a.m. with Wawa coffee to drive us around,” said Gavin Qian, 11. “We think they had fun.”