College of Science

In 1822 in a small German Village, a white stork was observed with a 30-inch spear in its neck. The bird was somehow still surviving and upon closer examination the origins of the spear were from Africa.

This was one of the first confirmed instances of avian migration and consequently metamorphosed our conclusions about the seasonal patterns of birds. It’s also the origin story, if you will, of why I ended up this summer as an undergraduate from the University of Utah at a bird ringing station at, of all places, a small village in Eastern Türkiye where I’m writing this. A position I never thought I would be in as just an undergrad.

Let me explain.

Stepping it up

I was a business major my freshman year but quickly realized my passions were in Biology. The decision to switch was scary, but once I began the course work, I knew it was the right choice. Despite excelling in my introductory biology classes like BIOL 1610 and BIOL 1620, I failed to apply this knowledge outside of class. In my Junior year, I decided it was time to step it up. I was determined to talk to my professors and take up every opportunity. Luckily, I would have time since spending my freshman year in business would require five years of school.

During my junior year, I took conservation biology (BIOL3470) with Çağan Şekercioğlu, a faculty member in the School of Biological Sciences at the U. During lecture, he spoke with pride about his home country of Türkiye and about his non-profit, Kuzey Doğa that works to protect its nature and wildlife. After lectures I would stay behind to chat with him, to pick his brain about all sorts of conservation topics. Impressed by both his depth of knowledge and his sincerity, I pursued joining his lab to contribute to the research.

Mist Nets

My work began with data entry, but soon I had opportunities to visit our bird banding stations in Utah at the Red Butte Canyon Research Natural Area and at the U’s Bonderman Station in Rio Mesa. Through these experiences I was lucky enough to become closer with one of Şekercioğlu’s graduate students, Kyle Kittelberger. During my senior year, Kyle and I began working on a project tracking two migratory eagles, the steppe eagle (endangered) and the booted eagle across the African-Eurasian flyway. The eagles were released from the Aras River Ornithological Station in Eastern Türkiye. While working on this project, something within me told me that's where I needed to be this summer. So, I asked Professor Şekercioğlu.

He said yes.

Stork Nestling: This Stork was very young when I first saw it, but this image was taken later on during my journey. All day, it was trying to flap its wings. It wanted to be free of the nest. But, it failed to get any lift.

The next thing you know, it's June 9^th, and I land in Türkiye. Upon arriving at the station, the first thing I noticed were the countless white stork nests. Within them were stork nestlings waiting with open beaks to be fed by their parents. In the background, innumerable flocks of rosy starlings passed by with swiftness and coordination. This was a bird paradise.

I quickly got along with my five field partners who were from Türkiye and Sweden. Everyone looked tired with red eyes, but I would quickly realize why. Wake up was at 3:15 a.m. every morning because the mist nets needed to be open before the sun. A mist net is a wide net with very thin rope, not highly visible to birds. Passing birds fly in and get stuck, leaving them to be extracted by us.

Extracting birds from mist nets is a delicate art. Initially, I shadowed others to observe their techniques. The difficulty is that bird flight is random, so every tangled bird is a new puzzle. Some birds like to bite; others like to grab the net; and a few are very pleasant — like the barn swallow that waits patiently to be extracted. I'd say my least favorite bird to set loose was the European starling. One wrong move prompts a banshee-esque squeal that only subsists when it is released.

Mud wrestling

Occasionally, I would get hit with a wave of realization. I was doing exactly what I wanted to do. I remember moments in classes like when we would learn about field techniques and think to myself that I would like to do that. I would like to be in the field. And here I was.

After two days, I became proficient and checked the nets on my own. Many of the nets are located in a muddy wetland filled with reeds, colorful wildflowers, croaking frogs, and agile water snakes. Wearing heavy boots, I waded through the mud checking net after net. My first few times I felt like I was slogging through, nearly tripping with each step. As time passed, I began to understand how the mud moved under my feet and became more efficient.

We had two licensed banders on site that did all the measurements. Sex, species, weight, tail length, among others were recorded. To cap it off, a small ring with an identifier is placed on the ankles of the birds. It is the equivalent of a social security number. As birds migrate along, they may be intercepted by another banding station which tells us about their movements. One barn swallow ringed here was recaptured in South Africa, a migration of thousands of kilometers.

Days were long and hot. We would check nets every hour from sunrise until sunset, taking turns to distribute the work equally. In between shifts, we drifted off into deep sleep under the shade of a wooden canopy. Every single hour of the day was spent outside. The chorus of bird calls went from an unidentifiable song to a band of many birds, each having its own unique pitch and rhythm.

Courage

It's hard to comprehend the impact of the work here. It seems inconsequential if you only focus on the day to day and bird to bird. However, during this spring season the banding site caught 118 different species comprising of over 5,000 individual birds. Since 2006, 316 different species have been captured and nearly 190,000 individuals including 3 new species to Türkiye. The data from these individuals has led to 25 publications. This work is deeply important.

I often think back to that story about the white stork and how far we've come. From learning that one bird migrates to understanding that billions of birds migrate every single year.

I also think back on how far I've come, from the student unsure of his passions to one that goes to a foreign country to do field work for his professor. As with migration, this step beyond the classroom takes courage, a level of courage that everyone possesses.

Courage, combined with the amazing academic opportunities we have here at the U can take you anywhere you desire. So, to students both young and old that may be reading this, don't be afraid to take that step. Take flight. You will never regret it.