Watching & Waiting

I think the most important quality in a birdwatcher is a willingness to stand quietly and see what comes. Our everyday lives obscure a truth about existence - that at the heart of everything there lies a stillness and a light.” ― Lynn Thomson, Birding with Yeats: A Mother's Memoir

I am trying my hand at some new endeavors lately. I do best when I am discovering something new and stretching my brain and my experiences outside of the comfort zone. I took up tennis a couple of years ago (and I'm still terrible), I am experimenting with baking all sorts of breads from scratch, and I am teaching myself how to repair just about anything that breaks in my house with the assistance of some common sense and YouTube. There is one, simple, silly activity that I have always wanted to learn more about that I keep avoiding though. Birdwatching. Yes...birdwatching.

So, I find myself intimidated by this thing that basically takes no skill, no experience, and no real physical ability other than walking outdoors. I am in awe of all birds, and even more fascinated by the people who watch for them, identify them without hesitation, know their habitat, their mating rituals, their calls and their behaviors. These birdwatchers carry the National Audubon Society Field Guide in their bag at all times, and they get slightly annoyed at sharing the woods or grassy dunes with anyone who might scare off the objects of their obsession. But since they, and their very interesting hobby, exist on the other side of where I am comfortable, it is into their world that I decided to venture.

With some unseasonably warm weather this week, I pulled out my Dad's old binoculars. The binoculars are older than me, and a treasure in their mid-19th century simplicity and durability. I dressed for the adventure and did a cursory amount of research as to where would be a good spot to capture the resident birds who did not fly elsewhere in February. I walked along a trail and tried to decide whether it would be better to keep walking to find the birds, or to sit quietly in one spot so that the birds could find me. Was I supposed to just point my eyes upwards and wait for a birds to come into my field of vision, or was I supposed to climb deeper into the woods off the path to find some better nesting spots? What was the correct procedure here? I took a breath and sat down on the ground against a tree and just...watched and waited.

I immediately saw activity in the trees, but, in my ignorance, I had no idea what I was looking at. Through my lenses I could see the details of individual birds, but I did not want to stop looking in order to page though my book and learn what kind of bird this might be. If I did, the moment would be gone, and I would miss the chance to be with this creature, all because I was seeking something more, some deeper understanding of this bird, all because I thought that this is what a birdwatcher is supposed to do. So, I didn't stop looking, but instead decided to feel something unique about the birds, and the woods, and the binoculars. I don't have words to describe those feelings, but they were really good, and really pure, and there is not a shred of me that feels unsatisfied with how I behaved.

A few days later, and I still haven't researched what kinds of birds I was watching. They were brown. They were small. They definitely had wings and beaks. (I know, could I sound any more ignorant?!) But I am much less intimidated as I look forward to my next adventure in birdwatching. It is not about following the recipe to make the bread, or the exact steps to replace the dimmer switch for the dining room light. It is about enjoying the moment. There is no goal, no final product. It just makes me feel good to spend time alone in the woods and observe, and connect with a living thing that I am not meant to touch or control. There is no 'supposed to', just the opportunistic joy of a moment. So, now I can add "Birdwatching" to my list hobbies. One more reason to get outside. One more reason to not follow the rules. One more reminder of the value of this moment.