Why I bird

"Nomina si nescis, perit et cognitio rerum."  Linnaeus, 1707-1778.

"If you don't know the names, even knowledge of the things themselves will pass away." 

The very first moment I can remember feeling a tinge of love for birding was during a college birding course that I took during spring break in the year of 1999. There were 12 students, 2 TA's and Dr Dale Clayton, the professor. We drove in vans to Madera Canyon and although, Madera Canyon is well known in the birder world, to the 12 students in this group it was just another location and access to upper division biology and lab credits. 

The first morning in Arizona, we were woken up early to see the colors and sounds of the birds in Madera Canyon. The sun was just peaking over the mountains creating bad lighting for bird watching, yet I remember the brilliance of the red Cardinals, the energy of the bright yellow warblers, the deep brown sulkiness of the thrashers, the red eye of the black Phainopepla, and the overwhelming feelings of impossibility as I tried to identify them.

I still wasn't hooked however but I would leave Arizona with the seed of birding planted.  The rest of the trip in Arizona was split between two agendas. The first was to share with us the diversity of the area through its amazing bird life. This was accomplished with daily field trips to the areas surrounding Madera canyon. The second was to collect data for the class.  For this, we were split up into teams and sent to different areas of the canyon.  It was through these experiences that I developed further appreciation for the sport of birding. On one occasion, I spent and hour or so at a "spring” in the middle of a shady clearing with Beth (my partner).  We lay on our backs in opposite corners of the clearing trying to see the color of toe pads on a bird smaller than the palm of my hand. Enjoying each other’s silence and the simplicity of the moment. 

There was also the time Beth and I were tired of walking our assigned trail. We sat down on a bench by the river, talking and laughing.  Breaking the silence of the trail and the rules of birding. When suddenly we noticed the form of a small hawk sitting about 5 feet, at head level, in the tree next to us. He looked at us and we looked at him forming a new conversation to be broken when the hawk silently glided away.

Although the seed was planted, I still don't know if I would have been hooked if it had not been for the weekend trips with the friends I made on the Arizona trip. I loved our way of birding. We were not the Elmerfuds of birding, but the Buggs Bunnies instead. We are loud, obnoxious, sometimes crude, but always laughing. You can’t tell me that we were out for the birds. The birds were just there to keep us occupied till the next outburst. These trips taught me that Girlfriends still exist but between these moments of finding friends, the birds began to wiggle into my life and I started birding on my own.

One of my favorite times birding was when I went out alone, one crisp morning in January. The trees were without leaf, the morning air was cold and foggy, and the snow crunched under my feet. I had
noticed, with much enjoyment, that the morning doves had returned. There figures dimly seen, silhouetted by an early morning sun, snuggled against naked branch. I decided to go off course this morning and walk through the trees.  I was totally wrapped up in the silence, the air seemed dense and cold, a ringed neck pheasant simply glided effortlessly over my head and the whole world stood still. No sound.  It was quite exhilaration.

But birding is not just about the birds. Birding is an experience with nature. During one birding trip to the foothills of Ogden, I witnessed thousands of flying ants recently birthed. They would fly off with each gust of wind in groups of 100's. Their white wings giving them the appearance of angels. I stood among them, my legs spread over their nest, and their soft wings fluttered against my skin. I am officially hooked. The seed of birding planted and growing.