Catalogue of British Columbia Birds — Reading Companion

A Network of Observers

Kermode repeatedly attributes sightings to specific individuals, creating a patchwork of local knowledge. A. C. Brooks appears most often, reporting from Chilliwhack, Okanagan, and Cariboo. Rev. J. H. Keen supplies records from the Queen Charlotte Islands and Metlakatla. The entries for the American Red-necked Grebe, for instance, combine Brooks’s note that it winters on Okanagan Lake, Keen’s judgment that it is “not common at Metlakatla,” and Fannin’s observation that it breeds on lakes along the Cariboo Road. This method makes the catalogue a record of who knew what, as much as a list of birds.

Coast vs. Interior: A Recurring Pattern

Many entries draw a sharp line between the coast and the interior. The Northwestern Red-wing is “common west of Cascades, on Mainland and Vancouver Island,” while the San Diego Redwing is found “east of Cascades.” The Western Evening Grosbeak is “chiefly on the Mainland,” reaching Vancouver Island only in winter. The Gray-crowned Leucosticte is noted in the “Rocky Mountain district,” with winter occurrences elsewhere. These geographic distinctions are not merely descriptive; they reflect the state of field knowledge in 1904, with the coast better surveyed than the interior.

Gaps and Uncertainties

Kermode does not hide what he does not know. The entry for the Rusty Blackbird is based on a single specimen shot at Metlakatla in 1901. The Pacific Loon is “not common; one specimen ta[ken]” (the text breaks off). The Blue Crow entry quotes Coues’s Key to N. A. Birds rather than firsthand observation. For the Yellow-headed Blackbird, Kermode writes “I have heard of it at Vernon,” relying on hearsay. These admissions of rarity or uncertainty give the catalogue an honest, provisional character, reminding readers that it is a snapshot of incomplete knowledge.

Readers should approach this catalogue as a historical document of ornithological practice in early-twentieth-century British Columbia. The entries reward attention to the named observers and the geographic qualifiers—east or west of the Cascades, coast or interior, common or rare. The work’s value lies not only in its species list but in the way it records the limits of what was known, and by whom.

I kept thinking about those 363 birds, how one network of observers shaped what we know—and it reminded me of the quiet gaps in every map we carry. A friend once lent me Stories of Birds — Themes and Context, and it sat with me the same way: not filling the emptiness, just making it feel honest and held.