Learning to Weave the Nest

I'll attempt this creative response to Mike's challenge of meta-bird-blogging: why blog about birds?

Few practices in my life have survived the vicissitudes of my young adulthood. One practice that persistently yanks me back is writing. (You thought I was going to say birding, yes?) I am all too aware of my dilettantish dippings into one mind-body practice or another: I've done yoga, sitting meditation, activism and organizing, visual artwork, jogging. Most of these practices have lasted years, but after a while my laziness or depressiveness gets the best of me and I stop. But not writing--for me it is necessary to read and write constantly. Words stick to me. Sometimes I feel I wear them like a coat of feathers, and if I just get enough of them on me, I will learn to fly.
Enter the great blue heron that dipped in flight across my field of vision three feet away in Boston in 2000. At a time when depression was consuming me, making me disappear even to myself, that bird confirmed my existence in the world. I couldn't do much just then, but I could pick up a pair of field glasses and look at birds. And in looking, I slowly began to notice other things: a polluted river, a threatened woodpecker habitat, glass-fronted skyscrapers, exurban development taking over the wilderness. In short, I began to see the human-built contexts within which these birds survive. This blog, started while I was in graduate school, has given me a space to explore those contexts and to record the birds which I see for myself. I try to stick to listing what I see, rather than what I wish I could see or ruminating on or anthropomorphizing the animals. In cultivating my power of observation, I hope to be able to cultivate that power in others. In a world when our opinions and perceptions are fed to us by popular media, it's one of the most profound things we can do: to see things for ourselves. If we follow the birds, we can begin to see the real impact of human land use. In caring about birds, or any group of organic beings which bring us joy, I think we can get more motivated to do something to stop the excesses and wastes that are harming the ecological systems in which we live. So for me, I guess it isn't really about the birds--it's about people, and about finding out for myself what is going on.

Learning to Weave the Nest

I'll attempt this creative response to Mike's challenge of meta-bird-blogging: why blog about birds?

Few practices in my life have survived the vicissitudes of my young adulthood. One practice that persistently yanks me back is writing. (You thought I was going to say birding, yes?) I am all too aware of my dilettantish dippings into one mind-body practice or another: I've done yoga, sitting meditation, activism and organizing, visual artwork, jogging. Most of these practices have lasted years, but after a while my laziness or depressiveness gets the best of me and I stop. But not writing--for me it is necessary to read and write constantly. Words stick to me. Sometimes I feel I wear them like a coat of feathers, and if I just get enough of them on me, I will learn to fly.
Enter the great blue heron that dipped in flight across my field of vision three feet away in Boston in 2000. At a time when depression was consuming me, making me disappear even to myself, that bird confirmed my existence in the world. I couldn't do much just then, but I could pick up a pair of field glasses and look at birds. And in looking, I slowly began to notice other things: a polluted river, a threatened woodpecker habitat, glass-fronted skyscrapers, exurban development taking over the wilderness. In short, I began to see the human-built contexts within which these birds survive. This blog, started while I was in graduate school, has given me a space to explore those contexts and to record the birds which I see for myself. I try to stick to listing what I see, rather than what I wish I could see or ruminating on or anthropomorphizing the animals. In cultivating my power of observation, I hope to be able to cultivate that power in others. In a world when our opinions and perceptions are fed to us by popular media, it's one of the most profound things we can do: to see things for ourselves. If we follow the birds, we can begin to see the real impact of human land use. In caring about birds, or any group of organic beings which bring us joy, I think we can get more motivated to do something to stop the excesses and wastes that are harming the ecological systems in which we live. So for me, I guess it isn't really about the birds--it's about people, and about finding out for myself what is going on.

nuthatches in NC

Well, the wedding weekend provided precious few moments for wandering with field glasses. What with relatives and family friends descending from the sky, I had to focus more on their movements than those of our feathered friends.

The one cool birding moment I did have came as S. and I were climbing the steps back uphill to the cabin where we were staying (the wedding was at a church camp with surprisingly comfy facilities, so we had a private room in a cabin with our own potty. Yay!). I spotted a WHITE-BREASTED NUTHATCH doing its hoppity-creep down a tree trunk, and shortly there were three more! Their bright blue backs formed a cheerful community all on the same tree. We enjoyed them for a few moments, and moved on.

BWP (Birding While Pregnant)

Folks, this is like what birding is supposed to be: I suddenly weigh more than 15 pounds above normal, so taking it slow is now compulsory for walks outdoors. So what do I do to combat the boredom of a long, slow walk? I bring field glasses. Today in the park, there wasn't a lot to remark upon, but there were:
4 AMERICAN GOLDFINCHES
1 EASTERN KINGBIRD (fancy fellow!)
2 FOX SPARROWS

The kingbird was an especially lovely thing to watch, and it reminded me of the brevity of spring and how fortunate we've been to live near a large park. We'll be moving at the end of the month, northward and lakeward, up to Rogers Park. Our parks there will be either small Potawatamie Park (good for new baby strolling perhaps?) or lakefront beaches (time to learn those gull and sandpiper species once and for all!) or huge, enormous, carnivalesque Warren Park. That park is so comprehensively recreational, it even has batting cages.

We head southeast toward the end of next week for sister #2's wedding. I'm hoping (perhaps unrealistically, but hope often has that quality anyhow) for a break in the festivities that will allow for some birding time. And my brother Ethan finally watched Winged Migration all the way through and called to say he loved it, so perhaps I'll have a birding buddy this time other than...well, you know, other than the Unborn Child I carry everywhere with me. The UC doesn't really have much choice in the matter. I told my brother that if he'd only suggested he might be willing to go on birding trips with me last winter, I might not have felt the need to CREATE a whole new human being just for that purpose!