Reposted from the College of Science.

In 1822, a white stork was observed in a German village with a 30-inch spear in its neck. Upon closer examination, the spear appeared to have originated in Africa.

This was one of the first confirmed instances of avian migration, leading to new insights into the seasonal movements of birds. It’s also the origin story of how I–an undergraduate from the University of Utah—spent a summer at a bird-banding station in eastern Turkey.

I started at the U as a business major, but quickly realized my passions were in biology and made the scary decision to switch majors. After excelling in my introductory biology classes, I sought to apply this knowledge in the field.

During my junior year, I took conservation biology (BIOL3470) with Çağan Şekercioğlu, a professor in the School of Biological Sciences. During the lecture, he spoke with pride about his native Turkey, spelled Türkiye in his homeland, and about his non-profit, KuzeyDoğa, which works to protect nature and wildlife. Impressed by both his depth of knowledge and his sincerity, I joined his lab to contribute to the research.

My work began with data entry, but soon I had opportunities to visit the U’s bird banding stations at the Red Butte Canyon Research Natural Area and Bonderman Station in Rio Mesa, where I met 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 Turkey. While working on this project, something within me told me that’s where I needed to be this summer. Prof. Şekercioğlu invited me to join.

Upon arriving at the station in June, 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.

Everyone looked tired with red eyes, and I quickly realize why. Wake-up was at 3:15 a.m. every morning because the mist nets needed to be open before sunrise. Extracting birds from mist nets is a delicate art. 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, like the barn swallow, wait patiently to be extracted.

Occasionally, I would get hit with a wave of realization that 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.

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.

Two licensed banders on site did all the measurements. Sex, species, weight, tail length, among other data points, were recorded. To cap it off, a small ring with an identifier was placed around the ankle of each bird. As birds migrate, they may be intercepted by another banding station, revealing information 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. Between shifts, we drifted off into deep sleep under the shade of a wooded 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.

The work here seems inconsequential if you focus only on the day-to-day and bird-to-bird. However, over this spring season, the banding site caught more than 5,000 birds from 118 different species. Since 2006, 316 species have been captured and nearly 190,000 individuals, including three new species to Turkey. The data from these individuals has led to 25 publications.

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

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

Header photo: Rufous-tailed scrub robins captured at the Aras River Ornithological Station in eastern Turkey. Photo credit: Nathan Murthy.

The first installment of a two-part essay, this piece was adapted from a Field Notes feature posted by the College of Science. The author, Nathan Murthy, is a junior in the Department of Earth & Environmental Science at the University of Utah and a Wilkes Scholar awarded by the U’s Wilkes Center for Climate Science & Policy, where he was on the winning team of the Climate Solutions Hackathon focused on water resources.  Read Murthy’s second installment on his field research in Turkey, this time tracking carnivores.