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This year’s Burns family Great Backyard Bird Count event was not the usual well-planned affair. Scheduling conflicts kept me from holding the after school birding program I’ve run for the past four years, so there was not the usual gaggle of children to invite. And I’ve only hung a single feeder since our move, making it unlikely that many of our usual feathered visitors would show up either. I decided a small count, just me and my kids, was the best approach for this year.

But then a reporter from our local daily newspaper called and said she’d like to do an article on backyard birdwatching and my new book. She wanted to schedule an interview for Saturday afternoon, smack-dot in the middle of Great Backyard Bird Count weekend. When I mentioned this, she asked if she could bring along a photographer and collect images of me and the kids counting.

Uh. Okay.

But that seemed sort of crazy. So many of our former bird counters are local kids, friends and neighbors we’ve known forever. The sort of people I could call last minute and say, “Please, please, please come over to my house on Saturday and help us count birds. There will be a reporter. And a photographer. And you guys are much cuter than I am!”

In the end, eight of us counted birds, talked to the reporter, and tried hard to pretend the man with the camera trained on us wasn’t there. It was a fun afternoon that will surely lead to a nice article. As a bonus, we recorded eight species of birds:

Sharp-shinned hawk (a life bird for almost everyone in the group)
Black-capped chicadee
Dark-eyed junco
Downy woodpecker
White-breasted nuthatch
Tufted titmouse
Northern cardinal
Eastern blue bird

And as a bonus-bonus, five more species, recorded over the remainder of the weekend:

American robin (28 of them!)
Blue jay
Red-tailed hawk
Mourning dove
American crow

I’ll append a link to the article as soon as it runs. In the meanwhile, tell me: did you count birds this weekend? What did you see?

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In my spare time these past months, I’ve been organizing my rag-tag collection of business cards and teacher contact lists and compiling them—along with the email addresses of my friends and family and acquaintances—into a massive (for me) Email Marketing Database. It was an angst-ridden process.

Why the angst?

Well, for starters, I am not good at tooting my own horn. The very idea that I was compiling this database with the end goal of sending every person on it a few words about myself was daunting. Excrutiating, even. That said, I’ve learned over the five years since my first book was published that marketing myself and my work is not something that is going to happen effectively without my help. My publishers are wonderful, and they do a lot for me, but their resources are limited and they have many authors and many books to promote. If I don’t supplement their promotion with a little legwork of my own, fewer readers are going to see my books. And toot-challenged or not, I do want readers to find my books.

So I kept at the database.

There were other demons. I kept asking myself: Will Tom want to be in my Email Marketing Database? (Tom being a high school friend.) Will Jane think I’m being pushy? (Jane being a writer friend I know personally but not well.) Will Harry wonder why I’ve included him? (Harry being the neighbor I sort of know, but not well.) Doubts like these haunted me the entire time I was creating the database, learning how to export email addresses from my contact books, composing that first promotional newsletter, and right up until the moment I told my marketing program (Mad Mimi, if you’re wondering) to send that first e-Blast.

But send it I did.

And the most amazing thing happened: my colleagues and business contacts and teacher friends and neighbors and family members and random acquaintances and Toms and Janes and Harrys began responding. Kindly. And while there are a few folks who’ve asked to be taken off that marketing list (2 out of 940!), yesterday was filled with lovely email messages of support and congratulations from all over the world. In the words of an editor friend with whom I shared my database/marketing angst: “Let it go!”

And so I’m letting it go…

My third book, Citizen Scientists, was published yesterday. If you didn’t get an email from me, or hear about the release on Facebook or Twitter, feel free to drop me a line (lgb (at) loreeburns (dot) com) and I’ll add you to my new Email Marketing Database. If you did hear about it, please feel free to spread the love far and wide. And if you’ve already spread that love, thank you from the bottom of my angst-less heart!

PS: The lovely valentine graphic above was a gift from my son on Release Day. How cool is he?

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“What is citizen science, anyway?” So begins this journey into the surprising world of science for everyone, everywhere. Part job description, part nature study, and part beginner field guide, Citizen Scientists invites readers of all ages to think of themselves as scientists, encouraging them to begin by tagging butterflies, counting birds, identifying frogs, and hunting ladybugs…

It’s here! It’s finally here! My newest book for young readers, Citizen Scientists: Be a Part of Scientific Discovery from Your Own Backyard will be published on February 14, 2012. Photographer Ellen Harasimowicz and I will be launching the book in two public events, one at her local library and one at mine. In keeping with the books outdoorsy nature, and in celebration of the amphibians that star in chapter three (“Frogging in Spring”), we’re holding these events on Leap Day, February 29, 2012.

We’ll share the people and places that helped us create the book in a short, all-ages presentation. A book sale and signing will follow. Here are the details:

Wednesday, February 29, 2012, 1:30pm
Harvard Public Library
4 Pond Road
Harvard, MA

Wednesday, February 29, 2012, 6pm
Beaman Memorial Public Library
8 Newton Street
West Boylston, MA

Please feel free to help us spread the word by sharing a link to this post. And if your free, we hope you’ll come and help us celebrate!

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Monarch Watch recently put out this great video of Chip Taylor, who is the Director of Monarch Watch and will be featured in my upcoming book on citizen science, capturing a honey bee swarm. Check it out:



And, while we are on the topic, now would be a good time to order tags for the 2011 monarch butterfly tagging season. You can learn more about tagging itself at the Monarch Watch Migration & Tagging page, and you can order tagging supplies at the Monarch Watch Shop.

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© Ellen Harasimowicz


Cornell University is a citizen science mecca of sorts. It is home not only to The Search for Lost Ladbugs Project, but also the world-reknowned Cornell Lab of Ornithology, whose mission is “to interpret and conserve the earth's biological diversity through research, education, and citizen science focused on birds.” The Lab coordinates several critical citizen science projects, including FeederWatch, NestWatch, Great Backyard Bird Count, and others.

As if all that weren't enough enticement, the Lab is nestled in the Sapsucker Woods Bird Sanctuary. (Yes, this place is as lovely as it sounds.) I spent part of yesterday there, interviewing Rick Bonney, who actually coined the phrase 'citizen science', and meeting several other folks who work behind the scenes on the citizen science projects I toot about here. (Including, by the way, Tim Gallagher, author of THE GRAIL BIRD. What a treat!)

It was a fabulous end to a fabulous research trip. I left the Lab with important new insights into citizen science, a cool new hat (see photo), and the mounting conviction that it is time, finally, to start writing this book. I have some loose ends to tie up, of course: notes to type, interviews to transcribe, and massive amounts of research to organize and review. But as Ellen and I emerged from the Sapsucker Woods and pointed the car toward home yesterday, my fingers were actually tingling.


**About the picture. I wouldn't normally just plop a picture of myself here on the old blog, but I asked Ellen to grab a picture of me outside the Johnson Center before we left the lab of Ornithology yesterday ... and I am just so amazed at how well she captured the exact feelings of the moment. I was happy and relaxed about a day of important work, and wanted to soak up a bit of this special place. I think Ellen totally got the shot. Can you see my fingers tingling?**

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© Ellen Harasimowicz

Oi, what a ladybug hunt we had! Here's the loose math: 27 intrepid ladybug spotters, 14 heavy-duty sweep nets, 7 buckets for sorting bugs, 5 scientists, 5 teachers, 1 hour, and ... (cue the dramatic music, please) ...

7 ladybug species!

The fourth-grade citizen scientists Ellen and I shadowed were amazingly dedicated field workers and didn't let wet clover, threatening clouds, or sudden intense sunshine slow them down. They captured, photographed, and released 7-spotted, pink-spotted, polished, checker-spotted, glacial, Asian multi-colored, and three-banded ladybugs. Not bad for a day's work.

Ellen and I are now back at our hotel. I am typing up notes like a madwoman. She is reviewing photos like a madwoman. We have decided we have the most perfect jobs ever...

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© Loree Griffin Burns


Photographer Ellen Harasimowicz and I are in Ithaca, New York learning about The Lost Ladybug Project. Yesterday's highlights included a visit to Dr. John Losey's ladybug lab--complete with a peek in the aphid room--and a ladybug collecting trip.

Eric Denemark, a former student of Dr. Losey's, brought Ellen and I to a nearby clover field and showed us how to sweep out ladybugs. That's Eric up above, sharing ladybugs he found with Ellen. I got to try my hand at collecting too, but those rather funny images are on Ellen's camera. Suffice to say that it is easy and enjoyable work, so long as you are okay with thigh-high clover fields and nets full of interesting creatures.

Ladybuggin' tip of the day: when you are done sweeping, let your net sit open for a moment ... that way bees and other stinging insects you may have swept IN can fly OUT. This is especially important if you plan to do this:



© Loree Griffin Burns

The weather here is threatening today's plans, so please send sunny, ladybug friendly thoughts this way. If the rain holds off I'll have more to share tomorrow.

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On Sunday I closed out the Christmas Bird Count (CBC) season in Concord, Massachusetts. The twelve-hour bird-spotting, snowbank-climbing, species-tallying marathon was an event to remember, and one that will greatly inform the CBC chapter of my CITIZEN SCIENTISTS book.

I spent the day attached to a group of birders led by the extraordinary naturalist Peter Alden. If you don’t know him by name, you may recognize his books. I came home with a new, signed copy of this one:




As if watching Peter bird was not enough, I also got to chat with him over lunch. I could have listened to his stories—which featured heroes like Jane Goodall and E.O. Wilson—for days. Alas, there were birds to count.


Surprisingly, at least to me, a lot of our birding was done like this:



Because of the frigid temperatures and the large-ish geographical area in need of census, we often drove to a location, got out briefly to count birds, then hopped back in the car to record the numbers and zip on to the next location. As you can see in the photo above, we occasionally skipped the ”got out briefly” bit and simply counted birds from the car. It was an oddly effective approach.

Throughout the day I managed to spot three Life Birds (birds I have not yet seen in my life): snow goose (we saw a flock of sixteen, including several juveniles), pine siskin, and Carolina wren. I wanted to take pictures to share here you but, well, none of my Life Birds would pose. I did find some penguins that were more obliging:





One heron and an owl, too:




Lest you think I am totally incompetent, here are some live birds. Ten points if you can tell me what they are:

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© Loree Griffin Burns


That’s photographer Ellen Harasimowicz at work in a milkweed meadow. Ellen joined me at two monarch butterfly tagging events this past week to record on film the wonder of citizen scientists at work.

Unlike my last tagging event, this weekend I was strictly an observer. I watched kids and adults—hip deep in goldenrod and with butterfly nets poised overhead—tiptoe toward nectaring butterflies. There were gasps of amazement (“Look at it eating!”), delight (“I got one!”), and awe (“Safe travels, butterfly!”). What a joy to sit back and watch these moments unfurl, to witness people connecting with nature in such a respectful way. These are the moments that excite me about citizen science and that inspired me to write this new book.

Oh, and then there are moments like this:



© Ellen Harasimowicz


That's me, feeling pretty joyful.

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Hey! Guess what I did this weekend? Would you like a clue? It happened in this meadow …



© 2008 Loree Griffin Burns



Another clue? My assistant and I were armed …


© 2008 Catherine Griffin Burns



© 2008 Loree Griffin Burns



Have you guessed? We were tagging monarch butterflies!



© 2008 Catherine Griffin Burns


My daughter and I netted this lovely male monarch and affixed a small, round sticker to the “mitten cell” of his hind wing. The tag weighs next to nothing and is printed with a serial number. If our guy survives his upcoming migration, he and his tag may be recognized by tag-watchers at the monarch roosting sites in Mexico. The tagging program has been underway for sixteen years and is helping scientists understand monarch behavior and migration. You can learn more about the program at the MonarchWatch website.

As for me, I will be learning lots more at the three more tagging adventures I have lined up this fall. Why so much tagging? Because I’m writing about monarchs and the citizen scientists who study them in a new book. Details soon!

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