Why Baseball and Birding Go Together Like Peanuts and Cracker Jacks

America鈥檚 pastime presents plenty of opportunities to spot birds, says sports writer Joe Trezza.
A crowd watches a baseball game while a flock of birds circles overhead.
The San Francisco Giants amid a flock of gulls. Photo: Kelley L Cox/USA Today Sports

Everything at the ESPN Wide World of Sports Complex monopolizes my attention: the enormous welcome globe, the 70,000 square feet of stadiums, arenas and playing fields, and the sprawling artificiality of it all. It鈥檚 February, and I鈥檓 in Orlando on assignment for听听covering the Tampa Bay Rays baseball team, which is training at the听facility鈥檚 minor league ballpark.

Then I notice the Sandhill Cranes.The breeding pair live on the complex, providing one of the few reminders that this land used to be swamp.听And they act at home鈥攄ancing around minivans, hammering at their reflections in gift-shop windows, filling the airstrip-sized parking lot with courtship calls that even drown out the Boat-tailed Grackle chorus. One morning, to the bemusement of everyone but the security guards, they stride unannounced through a sea of uniforms onto the fields, into a bullpen, and stand on the mounds.听All around them, players stretch, play catch, and run drills. On the pitching rubbers, the four-foot birds are almost their size. They are gawked at, greeted with grins, and treated as fearless oddities of spring.

You don鈥檛 see听that听at the ballpark everyday.听

The thing is, though, you can. If you only look. To me, the cranes are a gift. And while I don鈥檛 report them as news, they are my hands-down early highlight of the baseball season, which stretches from February to November and can take on the feel of a monotonous grind. When that happens, I often find myself diverting my gaze from the field to the sky.听

In baseball circles, I鈥檓 the bird guy. As a beat reporter for the past decade, I鈥檝e been the bird guy a lot鈥攁 rare breed in the press box and legitimately extralimital among baseball players and coaches, who in my experience are more prone to hunt ducks than photograph them. Baseball people are always texting me pictures of birds they are astounded to find brush up against their life in the game, and I鈥檓 happy to share my passion with them: 鈥楾hose funky-looking Florida waders? White Ibis!鈥; 鈥楾hat long-nose fellow is an American Woodcock, and no, he doesn鈥檛 belong in your equipment shed;鈥 鈥楤ald Eagle over the river in our nation鈥檚 capital? Yes, I believe you!鈥櫶

Occasionally, birds make baseball headlines all on their own. In 2004, the plight of an unfortunate Mourning Dove hit the national news when it flew into the path of a 100-mph Randy Johnson fastball and exploded in mid-air. Last October, fans were delighted when a Greater White-fronted Goose landed on the outfield at Dodger Stadium, interrupting Game 2 of the National League Division Series鈥攊t was safely removed and released. (Unfortunately, baseball doesn鈥檛 much consider how hazardous artificial light from stadiums can be for birds, especially during migration. But hopefully, more professional sports teams will soon follow the lead of the NBA鈥檚 Milwaukee Bucks, who built the world鈥檚听 in 2019).

In truth, birds have been woven into the fabric of our national pastime since its beginnings. Every fan knows the St. Louis Cardinals, Toronto Blue Jays, and Baltimore Orioles, sure. But have you heard of the Boston Doves (1907鈥10), Brooklyn Robins (1914鈥31), Columbus Blue Birds (1933), and Newark Eagles (1935鈥48)?

Yet avian diversity at the stadium goes well beyond mascots. The spring training ballparks of south Florida and Arizona are excellent birding sites, with vultures, hawks, Osprey, crows, and shrikes to enjoy. Once the regular season begins, I spot nighthawks filling the late-inning summer skies in places like Atlanta, attracted to feed on insects that swarm around ballpark lights. San Francisco鈥檚 Oracle Park offers a crash-course in gull identification. In St. Louis, I spent an entire summer eye-level with Busch Stadium鈥檚 resident Peregrine Falcons, who hunted pigeons over the visitor鈥檚 bullpen in the shadow of the Gateway Arch.

As I travel to ballparks around the country, I also go offsite to tick regional specialties such as Tufted Puffins (Seattle), Gray Kingbird (Tampa Bay), and California Gnatcatcher (San Diego) off my life list, all within 90-minute drives of those stadiums. A great morning bird or two soothes the blow of a night game in a domed stadium (8 of the 30 big league parks have fixed or retractable roofs).

Of course, binoculars are handy for watching baseball, too. So if you want a close-up of the action on the field and birds in the sky, bring your binoculars with your tickets. Just check your facility鈥檚 bag policy beforehand.

While I type this article from a press box, I am surprised when an editor points toward the stadium scoreboard with glee. 鈥淕reat Blue Heron flying over the baseball field!鈥 he exclaims, nearly jumping out of his seat. The glimmer in his face reads unmistakable: You don鈥檛 see听that听at the ballpark every day.听

This story originally ran in the Summer 2023 issue as 鈥淎merica鈥檚 Pastime is For the Birds.鈥 To receive our print magazine, become a member by听.