Confessions of a Bird-a-holic

Did you ever look at something but not really see it? That was my relationship with birds for the longest time. I knew the basics. I could tell a robin from a crow from a blue jay, but that was about it. I longed to know more, but never seemed to have the time (or take the time) to learn. When my husband and I bought our first house, I plunked a monstrosity of a bird house (mansion?) in the middle of the lawn, filled it with 20 pounds of seed, and waited for the birds to come. They didn’t.

In my eagerness to commune with nature, I had not done my homework. I didn’t know that birds need cover; they look for trees to shade and protect them when they are feeding. A feeder in an open space is an invitation to hawks and other predators, which is why the little winged ones stayed away. So when we were ready to buy a new home, my husband and I looked for one flanked by a lush greenbelt and a canopy of trees. I did a little reading to discover what kinds of feeders to put up and where they should be placed. And now? We are inundated by birds year-round. It is everything I could have hoped for! On a daily basis, chickadees, sparrows, wrens, robins, pine siskins, and grosbeaks feed just feet from my back doors. I have seen birds I didn’t even know lived in the Northwest, like cedar waxwings, gold finches, and orioles! Once, I looked out my kitchen window and saw a gorgeous red pileated woodpecker with its stunning claret crest hammering away at a burned out tree trunk in the greenbelt. I searched online until I found a suet feeder with a tail prop (woodpeckers need a place to rest their tails when they feed). Now, not only do the pileateds visit, often with their young, but other woodpeckers come, too—Northern flickers, downies, sapsuckers. It’s a regular traffic jam each morning as the birds queue up on the tree waiting for their turn to hop onto the suet (And yes, we do get the occasional hawk or falcon, who pick off a bird to dine on – sigh – circle of life and all). My experiences inspired me to write a series for children called Backyard Safari. One of the books, Birds, takes young readers, step-by-step, on a birdwatching adventure.

On occasion, I will stop and chat with my neighbors as we work outside in our yards, the same neighbors who back to the same greenbelt I do. When I mention the variety of birds we are fortunate to see, they will often frown and say, “What birds?”

“You mean, you didn’t see the flock of grosbeaks yesterday?”

“No.”

“The pileated parents with their juvenile this morning in your tall tree?”

“No.”

“The eagle circling this afternoon?”

They shake their heads as if I am speaking a foreign language. Many will say, “I thought we only had crows.”

Maybe you do see only what you expect to see. But if that's true it means we are missing so very much. It makes me wonder how many other delightful, extraordinary things I am overlooking in this world. I try to keep that in mind when I go to my window, or anywhere, for that matter.