As a young boy growing up in the Oklahoma Panhandle, I remember Mom being a bird watcher. The Panhandle, with few trees and little water isn’t normally thought of as bird country, but Mom “watched” anyway. I remember looking at the books she had by the window and marveling there could actually be that many different birds. Mom had a window to the backyard. She had the books, and she even had binoculars.
Birds were of little interest to me. Especially after Mom’s research informed her that Purple Martins ate mosquitos. She bought a Purple Martin house. We installed it on a pole in the back yard. With their fighter pilot skills, the Purple Martins were fun to watch as they one at a time eliminated our mosquitos. I don’t have fond memories of cleaning out and taking that house down, and storing it for the winter.
When I got older, bird watching seemed to be something old people did, or maybe eccentric people. It wasn’t thought of as something us normal guys would be involved in. Our oldest daughter still will often say when I mention something about birds, “That reminds me of Grandma! I take it as a compliment.
Fast forward several decades. It was a time in which I had little interest in birds except for the pheasant and quail I enjoyed hunting in the fall.
A young nephew, a professional musician by trade, having played with several prominent orchestras in interesting places around the country, was always a fun person to visit with. In conversation one day, birds came up, and I discovered he was an avid birder. {New term for me there) He would actually go out of his way to see and log a particular bird as he traveled the country. This was way above Mom’s level, and frankly maybe borderline eccentric.
As we talked, he showed me his Cornell University apps for identifying and logging birds. I was interested, but I told him we had only sparrows and pigeons and a few other nameless birds in our area, so there was no need to get too excited about it.
One of my “things” is enjoying my early morning coffee on the morning patio. I began noticing a bird or two that were a bit different. I hadn’t noticed them before. Not only was there a visual aspect, but there was also an audible presence that was new. As a kid, I thought it was just roosters who greeted the morning. Not so. I heard different birds greeting the morning in their different ways. Sometimes, it was a solo at other times, maybe a quartet.
I downloaded the apps. I started a list. I became more observant.
In the space of several months, I logged 30+ different species of birds that had been in or near our backyard. Most of them had been there all the time…but I had not noticed. How many more could I add to my list if I actually went looking?
Now I’m into birds.
I’ve grown to appreciate the diversity I see in birds, each one specially equipped to find and consume a particular type of food. They speak to me of creation.
What, for example, did the Robin eat while waiting millions of years for its sense of hearing and its ability to spear worms evolve?
And what about the Eastern Kingbird whose antics in feeding on flying insects entertained me this morning. (07/26/2023) What did it eat while its keen eyesight and flying ability developed?
And the same with the Mississippi Kites who inhabit the golf course just across the alley. They see flying insects, small reptiles, and rodents from great altitudes and turn them into a meal. At some point, their chronological clock tells them to head to central South America for the winter. In the spring, they return to their trees on Blackmer Municipal Golf Course. Which one of them, eons ago, first decided to do that? How did it impart that information to succeeding generations?
And need I mention the various ducks and geese that stop on the golf course pond on their way North or South? We’ve always known about them haven’t we? We see them and take them for granted. How do they know?
Now go look out your window. How many birds do you see? What kind are they?