Bird-watching. Yes, bird-watching. I never thought the day would come. But, it has, and I am enjoying it. And with National Go Birding Day on April 26, the timing to come out of the cage seemed right.
A few years back, my wife and I would frequently go camping. We would arise in the early morning with a cup of hot coffee, sit outside quietly, and marvel at the array of birds and their activity. We cautiously told some close friends about our fascination, and they admitted they are also hooked and suggested we buy a book about Iowa birds. So, we did. We dug through boxes and found some old binoculars as well. When our adult children learned of this, they pointed out that we now are truly old. They seem to be right.
Of course, like you, I have been around birds my entire life. As a child, I would also quietly watch the birds as they flew about. Gathering nature’s debris for their nests. Plucking earthworms from the wet soil. And waking me up with their playful chirping. Few things bring back more peaceful memories than the cooing of those two mourning doves outside my bedroom window. They were nature’s alarm clock.
As pleasant as those birds were, I never felt motivated to truly “bird-watch.” That was for the nerds, I rationalized. After all, I saw Jane Hathaway on “The Beverly Hillbillies,” and I was not going to be searching for the yellow-bellied sapsucker.
Meanwhile, I recently started watching “The Residence” on Netflix, a wonderful whodunnit series about a murder in the White House with a detective who has a passion for bird-watching. The parallels to Cordelia Cupp’s detective work are entertaining enough, but I found myself intrigued by her feathered finds.
Then, in the midst of writing this column, I received an email from one of those statistics-of-the-day groups looking for free PR stating that Iowa is the worst state for bird-watching. Seriously. Well, I won’t be donning a tan uniform and a brimmed hat anytime soon, but, despite our state’s awful ranking, I am enjoying the sights of robins and blue jays and cardinals and finches. They represent a change of seasons, a resurgence of life and a simple playfulness we could all use a bit more of.
As my mother got older, I would see her talking to the birds outside her home. I was tempted to tease her about it, but I could see how those birds brought her peace and happiness. She wasn’t too pleased with the squirrel that continually emptied the birdfeeders, though, but she learned how to turn its attention to a feeder she made out of corn cobs that spun on a wheel. And then Mom began talking to the squirrel, too. Amazingly enough, the squirrel seemed to chirp back at her.
I am not yet talking to the birds and squirrels, but those days may be coming soon, and that’s just fine by me. Until then, you may find me in the early hours with a cup of hot coffee in my hand, reading my bird book, and listening to the mourning doves.
Have a great week, and thanks for reading.
Shane Goodman
President and Publisher
Big Green Umbrella Media
shane@dmcityview.com
515-953-4822, ext. 305 |
