a small way in which birding has changed my life
At the beginning of the year, I set out to complete a curriculum designed around Birding in my Backyard. As a long-time animal lover, and someone living a relatively sedentary life, I wanted a mindful activity to do outdoors to be more present and unplugged. As mentioned in a previous post, I got burned out about halfway through my curriculum plans (anticipated due to big life events and my work schedule), but I came the closest to finishing this class. What I am prouder about, however, is that not only am I still birding halfway into the year, but it has had a meaningful, positive impact on my life.
Of course, there are some obvious positive changes that were at the root of my interest in picking up this hobby such as spending more time outside walking and becoming more comfortable not encasing myself in headphones and tuning out the world immediately after work. This is what I meant about being mindful, because attuning my senses to the world around me has improved my mental health each time I have made time for even a small walk whether I see a bird or not. Even standing in the shade of a tree, taking deeper breaths, and appreciating the sky and the little crackle of twigs and dirt underfoot has been a helpful boon during a stressful transitional period of my life.
But that's not actually what I mean by my life changing. After all, for full transparency, I don't always make time to go for a longer walk, or to head out to a nice park. More often than not, the birds that I see are on my regular commute heading to and from work. I am still hoping that, with more time, and as my physical health improves, that I will continue to add more birding into my weekly routine and even visit some of the bigger hot spots in my area.
What has changed is so simple it almost feels silly to dedicate a whole post to it, but it's also one of my favorite parts about birding: birds aren't just birds anymore and my world is bigger.
Pre-birder Arden would walk to work and unless they saw a crow or pigeon, most birds were "bird." When I got home, I'd say "there were a lot of birds outside" and that would be that.
Now, even when I'm standing on my street, I'll hear them: House Sparrow, European Starling, Eurasian Collared-Dove, Bushtit, Red-Crowned Amazon, and, what's becoming one of my personal favorites, Northern Mockingbird. Aside from our silly, feral parrot colony, these are fairly ordinary birds found in most suburban environments in this area, but before most were collectively just birds and I was only vaguely aware of their presence. Now I recognize their songs, including Mockingbirds mimicking car alarms, and I am so much more aware of life happening around me as a result.
At work, for example, I was never sure if I was looking at a really big crow or a raven. Admittedly, we have some very well fed large crows. They have their own congregation and seem to know all the good scavenging spots. But one day I heard a sound far croakier than a regular caw and spotted a large black bird perched near the football field and thought, "Oh that's a raven." Since then, I have watched them hunt squirrels in the trees (unsuccessfully) and heard them click and warble at their mates.
After returning a library book, I hung around outside hoping to add another bird or two to my life list. Though I was impressed by a pair of turkey vultures circling overhead, I was even more delighted when, standing under the shade of a short tree, I realized I was completely surrounded by bushtits hopping and pipping to their hearts' content. They're so tiny and utterly charming.
At my local park, I spotted a bright flash of blue in the open field and watched a pair of Western Bluebirds gather materials to build a nest in a tree hollow together. I'm eager to go back to observe, from a safe distance with my binoculars, to check if their family has grown.
Once, I thought I saw a shape up on the roof of a building. A co-worker bumped into me and I'm still a little shy about being seen with my binoculars out so I explained in haste that there was a hawk - most likely a Cooper as they have perched in trees nearby. We watched it soar to the flagpole and then dive into the bushes trying to snatch a tasty morsel.
When I first started birding with Merlin ID, I was heavily reliant on it to detect the sounds nearby (which was a great early lesson in what Mockingbirds are capable of doing!) Now, I'll be walking and think "Allen's Hummingbirds. Lesser Goldfinch. Black Phoebe. House Finch" without needing to put eyes on the birds. My knowledge and confidence are expanding and it's a comfort feeling more connected to the creatures that inhabit the same space as me.
As someone with a history of depression, low motivation, and loneliness, birding has made me feel more connected, interested, and invested in the world. And I hope that my little bubble will continue to expand.
Thank you for reading! Źįµį“„įµŹ