T Hes) A.UcD, UB OmN ee BeUri tia eeieteN 
Then—disaster. All through winter, spring and summer of ‘63 
not a single new species appeared. | had just about written the 
year off when, on Sept. 11, a huge bird soared in wide circles 
high above the house. After a dash for the binoculars | con- 
firmed that it was a variety which simply couldn‘t be where it 
was. It was an osprey, the only entry on the ‘63 list, and the 
first of several sightings which have convinced me that with 
patience and luck, almost any species found in our area could 
be spotted in almost any well-planted yard. 
Of course my ultra-liberal ground rules have nudged along 
my list a bit. | count any bird in or above the yard—no matter 
how high up—or any bird seen or heard while I’m standing in 
the yard. 
Despite such permissiveness, the going continued rough in 
the mid-’60s—just four new kinds for ‘64, again only one in ‘65, 
then three in ‘66 and only one in 67. The most exciting new 
variety in these years was a Great-Horned Owl which bullied by 
a flock of crows, landed to rest in a tree across the street. The 
crows marshaled their forces in the next tree and then, in pairs, 
divebombed the owl, digging their claws into its back. 
As 1968 began, the list stood at 92 and the magic number 
seemed a long way off. But things began to happen—fast. In May, 
| spotted my first Yellow-throated Vireo and Kingbird, then in 
October the first Red-headed Woodpecker and Red-tailed Hawk. 
Finally, in late October the first winter finches I’d ever seen—a 
small flock of Pine Siskins—brought the list to 97. A few days 
later a flock of Redpolls joined the siskins and on Nov. 5 an Ore- 
gon Junco brought the list to 99. 
Finally, the day before Christmas, after 12¥%2 years and 
despite three wild-Indian sons who with their playmates had long 
whooped it up in the yard, | cracked the hundred barrier: A 
Purple Finch placidly munched seeds in one of our feeders. 
I'd expected a letdown after hitting 100, a where-do-we-go- 
from-here feeling, but this wasn’t to be. For No. 101 made its 
appearance sensationally three weeks later in the form of a Marsh 
Hawk that swept low over our house one cold, snowy day. 
Diagrammed opposite is the bird- 
fetching layout of the Vander- 
poel’s suburban acreage in Des 
Plaines. Shaded areas are made 
up of barberry, buckthorn, coto- 
neaster, gray dogwood, elderber- 
ry, honeysuckle, and viburnum. 
Drawing is by Hugh Knight and 
reprinted from The Chicago Sun- 
Times. 
