I have a theory. When someone turns forty-five or thereabouts, birds become important. “Birding,” it seems, is a midlife highpoint, a rite of passage into a wondrous, natural world that weaves in-and-out of our daily lives.
When the hush of winter is interrupted by the trill of the redwing blackbird, spring has arrived. Hummingbirds, some no larger than a bumble bee, flit throughout summer as quickly as summer comes and goes. Canadian geese pierce cloudy skies with crisp V-formations and Doppler effect calls, “Fall is here, and winter’s near. Farmers are gathering their harvests.” Even in the city, house finches gather at feeders year-round, reminding us that we are social creatures, too.
At this time, when congregating with friends is not so easy, watching the comings and goings of birds is a welcome diversion. To break the monotony of days spent at home, my husband Dave and I packed up his camera and the binoculars and headed out on a road trip. Our purpose? To spot bird nests and see what young were being hatched. We struck gold with a pair of nesting great horned owls and whiled away a chunk of time spying on a shy mama hawk affording us no photo op.
Meandering around deserted country roads, in search of the elusive, got me thinking about the way birds emulate our human emotions, activities, and desires and vice versa. I, for example, exhibit an acute nesting instinct. Most of us wish for nothing more than to successfully raise and fledge our children…kick them out of the nest and watch them soar. We humans ruffle feathers, squawk at injustice, and sing with happiness. We personify birds with stories of the wise old owl, Mother Goose, Henny Penny, the eagle of freedom, the dove of peace.
When a meadowlark sings, my heart leaps. A whippoorwill’s call at dawn can make us ache for a lost love. A loon’s cry echoing over dusky waters is oft times accompanied by a sense of the forlorn. Last fall, we erected three bluebird houses in our backyard. When Dave and I spotted the first mountain bluebird claiming one of them as his own, our stay-at-home blues took a hike. Bluebirds convey happiness even on this side of the rainbow.
I also thought, on that road trip, how envious we are of birds because they have a super-power we humans do not. They fly. Birds soar, glide, zoom, zip, flutter, hover, dart, flap, wheel, and wing away. How often do we want to do just that?
Yes, we admire birds for all that they do and all that they are—the elegant descendants of the great lizards—dinosaurs, the singers of carpe diem, but mostly because they have tiny hearts that go pitter patter, until they don’t. We love birds, because like us humans, they are mighty and yet they are vulnerable.
Photographs courtesy of Dave Boyden.
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how perfect that your wonderful words came this morning. Heather and I were walking last night, listening to all the returning spring birds sounds.
thank you.
made my day.
M
Isn’t Spring wonderful in a place where you have snow in the winter? Glad I helped you along in these “distancing” times.
good morning, Heidi, found your words uplifting this a.m. in California. Am looking for new activities to do around my home on the side of the American River Canyon. Our world pivots to new viewpoints. I will see how many different birds I can find. Stay safe.
Pat, definitely start a bird journal. I started one about 20 years ago thinking I would soon have about 500 birds. I don’t even have a hundred yet. All those little brown sparrows and wrens and finches confuse me!!! Take care and hi to your hubby.
Heide, I feel you’ve really become a frontier woman. Love your stories and love Dave’s photos. Thanks, Much love, Trudie
Hi Trudie, Thanks for reading all my fodder. Yes, I do feel a little bit like a grown up Laura Ingalls living on the prairie.
Your words and the photos are so lovely! Thank you for sharing them. Here in Minnesota, I’ve been pointing out the red-winged blackbirds to my grandchildren, telling them that it’s a sign of spring. And, of course, they can identify the newly-returned robins. I actually became a birdwatcher at a young age, and both of my daughters said “bird” as their first word. Rather unusual! But when we were outside, I always pointed them out. I used to tell my students that knowing things like bird names made the world so much more interesting. That when they were sitting in the backseat on a journey, they could observe hawks on the telephone poles or the song of a cardinal at the top of a tree in the late winter or sandhill cranes stalking in the cornfields . . . so much more interesting than just “there’s a bird”. My brother, Jeff, is fascinated with the eagle live cams along the Mississippi and got me to check them out. I would sometimes have them up on my screen in my classroom between classes for students to watch. The other day, I scared the first goldfinch that I’d seen by our feeder (we live in Minneapolis) away by walking past the door. I wrote a quick poem and shared it with students on a video that Dave and I made, as an example of looking to nature for writing ideas:
Goldfinch
I frightened it from the feeder
The streak of yellow
Lifting on the wind
But that glimpse was just enough
To shout “It’s spring!”
I love your poem! And I can see that goldfinch. Thank you so much for sharing your experiences, poem and love of birds.
Hi Heide , Dave and I watch the birds every morning. On rainy days they shelter in till it stops so we look at the feeders and spent shells on the messy ground under the feeders. Rain and snow usually stops intermittently so they all come out for breakfast. We have woodpeckers, finches tree sparrows, chickadees, juncos, nuthatchs, and some I can’t remember. Quite an array. We had 2 dear in the paddock area the other day. We also had the fortune of seeing albino deer about 8 miles from our place. Isn’t nature precious. Thanks again for much needed blogs.
Dear Susie, Yes! Nature is the elixir and I am so happy you have it surrounding you. Stay healthy and happy in it.
This is a lovely piece of writing. The thing that makes me most joyous about birds is the return of birdsong in spring.
As you know, winter in Wisconsin is daunting. I always feel melancholy in the fall as the woods and fields get quieter and quieter through the end of trout season and bow hunting. By the time rifle season begins in the end of November the woods are nearly silent except when a group of finches works their way through the woods where you are sitting. If you sit perfectly still a little finch might land on a branch right next to you or even on your rifle barrel! My heart welcomes those finches like old friends when they come through because hours on a deer stand can be lonely. Finches are tough. They don’t migrate, so I have a special kinship with them. We both know what Wisconsin is like in February. When I was younger, I never understood why guys my age tend to give up deer hunting. Some do because they lose buddies or it gets too physically demanding. But the reason I find it harder to get motivated is the silence and barrenness of the woods in late fall.
I usually pick my fly rod up the last week of March or so. The water is cold, everything is brown and except for the gurgling water, things are still quiet. As April turns to May, more and more birds arrive until early mornings are nearly a cacophony and the universe is surging with life. One of my favorite birds this time of year is the red winged blackbird. They often nest in tall grass and guard their young perched on willows right along trout streams. As you are walking along the bank thinking about trout, they take profound offense if you do not notice their nest. You come to realize this when all of a sudden you are under aerial attack with an angry bird swooping dangerously close to your head. Time to move on.
With the peak of spring into early summer and our most intense mayfly hatches. An angler is always focused on the trout who lose their customary caution and feed aggressively on the surface. But the trout are not alone. Birds of all kinds are swooping down to gracefully pluck the mayflies just above the water. If it is late evening and the hatch is heavy like the hexagenia, bats even get into the act. I knew a friend who accidently hooked a bat on his backcast. Eating, mating, killing and being born are all happening so fast they blur into each other. Melancholy will have its day, but not today. Today is about life.
I know it is primarily the cycle of the liturgical calendar that has grounded and sustained me through life. But the rhythm of fishing and hunting along with the presence of the birds have served as a second liturgical calendar of sorts and no doubt that has grounded and sustained me as well.
Dear Peter, Thank you for elaborating on all the ideas/thoughts/feelings I was trying to wrangle with my blog post. Especially at this unprecedented time, nature and my “spirituality” have given me a lot of comfort. So did your words and sentiment. Thank you very much and enjoy a Happy, Safe, Loving, Peace-filled Easter. Heide