Dammit. I’m a birder.

When was the last time you noticed a bird outside? 

No really. 

Pause right now and think about it. 

When was the last time? Where were you? What kind of bird was it?

You probably fall into one of two categories: you know exactly which bird you saw and when or you have no freakin’ clue. 

A few years back, I was solidly in the latter. I could name a crow and a cardinal but couldn’t tell you the last time I saw one. 

But my world is different now. It all started when my mom retired 8 years ago. It was as if a switch had flipped. Overnight she became a birder — otherwise known as a “bird enthusiast”. 

She bought binoculars, got a book to track the birds she saw, and filled her backyard with different kinds of bird feeders and birdhouses because apparently different species of birds prefer different dining and dwelling options. Who knew?

So I did what any loving daughter would do, I poked fun at her. Because…well, do I really have to explain? It’s birding. 

Then my son was born and my mom started watching him a few days a week. She regularly showed him the birds in her backyard and would name each one. 

As my son got older, he would come home and rattle off birds: cardinal, Carolina Wren, chickadee, tufted titmouse. He was 4 years old. 

So I did what any loving parent would do, I made it my mission to learn more about birds than him. He may have an encyclopedic knowledge of birds and a vast expanse of untapped brain space, but I have Google. 

I quickly learned that we don’t just have crows and cardinals in our backyard. We have house sparrows, house finches, red-bellied woodpeckers, red-shouldered hawks, Eastern Towhees and juncos in the winter, bluebirds in the spring, hummingbirds in the summer, and barred owls all year long. Not that I’m keeping track…

I learned the names of all the birds in my backyard and then I had to know more, so obviously I joined a Facebook birding group, asked for binoculars for Christmas, bought a bird bath, installed a bluebird house, and hung different bird feeders. 

Wait. Am I becoming my mom?

That’s not possible. I’m not a birder. That’s for retired people. I’m too young for that. I just happen to appreciate birds a little more than the average person. 

I do enjoy sitting and watching the birds flit from the trees to the feeder to the ground. I notice which kinds of birds are flying around, how they move, and how they eat. As much as it pains me to admit, it’s fascinating. 

When the pandemic hit, birds became a reprieve. 

When I was feeling lonely and isolated, I watched our bird feeder and would see a flurry of feathery activity. When the world stopped and turned upside down, I watched the birds and saw that nature… and life does indeed go on. 

These days, I find myself mindlessly gazing out the window one second and shouting to everyone the next, “Come look! There’s a pileated woodpecker on the tree! Hurry before it flies away!” Or frantically jumping up to grab my binoculars in the middle of the workday to confirm that, yes, I really did see a new woodpecker fly through our yard and land on the dead tree in the back: a northern flicker!

Then, to top it all off, I even came across a song extolling the wonders that is birding: Birding by Swet Shop Boys. And yes, I do enjoy listening to it. It’s a rap about birds, what’s not to like? 

You know I'm birding, baby (birdsong)

Where my binoculars at? (birdsong)

I'm with the trees (birdsong)

I'm looking for birds, yo (birdsong)

Dammit. I’m a birder. 

Made with DALL-E

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Thank you to

Emma Dorge

and

Karena

for giving me feedback even after finding out that I’m a birder.