To Bird is to experience life anew

The past two mornings, there has been a first year immature Baltimore oriole at the feeder; last week, there was an immature rose-breasted grosbeak at the feeder. Yesterday, Patty saw a pair of sandhill cranes on her run. Every time we see something the least bit unusual we get excited. We are so lucky; we live in a part of the world where we can still, for a little while longer, take these sightings for granted—more or less.

We’ve seen the cranes, not often, but fairly regularly in the Plum River bottoms near Loran Rd. for the last four or five years. They are actually, along with the eagle, one of nature’s great comeback stories. Every time we go walking, even if we just hear them, we’re thrilled. In other parts of the state, Canada Geese are considered a nuisance, out here, to hear a flock of geese calling as they fly across the sky is still amazing. When we first moved here, we had no idea that there were so many wonderful birds right outside our front door. Just one more example, we had to get out the field guide and check and double check until we finally learned that the wonderful birds, with the shrill call, which try to take over the pastures and hay fields every spring, are killdeer. We’ve learned to recognize them and seeing and hearing them every morning is a joy.

As I write this, I can look over the top of my computer screen, out the window into the yard and watch dozens of birds. We’re not knowledgeable enough to know why they come and go, hang out and disappear, appear and reappear, but we love every curtsy, bow and turn in their endless aerial dance. Some mornings, the feeders are crowded with gold finches. And then puff! they’re gone for a week or two. But the sparrows, a lone pair of nuthatches, and of course the house finches (which I stubbornly insist are purple finches) persist.

It used to be that the grosbeaks would pass through spring and fall on their way someplace else; this year, they stayed. The orioles missed a year but seem to have nested nearby again this year. The mourning doves are wonderful but their plaintive call can be a bit wearing. But, then with a touch of regret in her voice Patty comments, “You know there haven’t been any doves around lately.” But, later that same day, one will appear strutting along the roof’s ridge line. Thanks to Patty’s nest boxes, the bluebirds are regulars now well into early winter. It’s a corny, worn out old cliché, but still there is nothing quite as exciting as the unexpected flash of blue.

It’s still warm, humid, and a bit muggy and the occasional thunder shower still loudly proclaims, “This is August! It is supposed to be hot and humid with isolated thunder showers!” But it is also the beginning of fall. The kingbirds suddenly appear on the electric wires. We wonder, “Where have they been all summer?” The redwinged blackbirds, which have not only been quiet but nearly invisible since nesting ended, are just beginning to reappear. For the next couple of months, we’ll watch the blackbirds and swallows begin to gather together in preparation for their journey. But it’s early; they’re not really serious yet. Hanging out seems just right, so that’s what they’re doing.

Is bird watching exciting because we’re getting old and that’s all we’re up to? There are young birders of course, but most of us have gray hair and arthritis. We like to think that one of the benefits of maturity is a bit of wisdom. We’re finally beginning to sort out what’s important and what’s not. And waiting for the cedar waxwings to return each fall and hang out for a week in their namesake and eat the juniper like berries seems more important than ever.
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